


The King's favorite and the masked Saracen

by orphan_account



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006), Robin Hood - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Crusades, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Major Character Injury, Regicide, Tragedy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-16 20:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 62,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2284185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin of Locksley is almost mortally wounded by the masked Saracen in regicide attempt on King Richard's life in Acre. In reality, the masked Saracen is Guy of Gisborne. They fight and Guy fails to flee as he is gravely injured by Robin. Will Robin and Guy survive? How can their relationship be different?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

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[ ](http://s1065.photobucket.com/user/Exotic-little-bird/media/robin%20hood%20guy_zpsxhbkkerq.jpg.html)

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**The King's favorite and the masked Saracen**

**Chapter 1**

**Unexpected Saracen Attack**

It was a cold night in the Holy Land. As the sun disappeared behind the horizon, the temperature plummeted, and by midnight it was almost freezing. The dark sky was star-spangled, glassy, and endless, the sheen of the moon painting everything silver. The beauty of the dark sky, the ultimate symbol of freedom, made the night a little more tolerable among the monotonous yellow dunes.

Absolute stillness reigned in the Crusaders' camp located just outside the walls of Acre. It seemed that not a soul was awake at that late hour. Only several guards were at watch on their posts, guarding the entrance to the camp and all the existing paths that might be used to sneak into the camp unnoticed. Two guards stood near the King of England's large tent, their hands at the hilts of their swords.

In his tent, Sir Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon and the Captain of King Richard's Private Guard, slept on a canopied, large wooden bed, with a headboard carved in elaborate designs.

Everyone could say that it was a tent occupied by a man of a royal favorite. In the tent, there were expensive hangings and fine silk bedding sheets and pillows, some splendid pieces of furniture, and luxurious Turkish rugs with countless soft pillows thrown on them. Much, Robin's loyal manservant, slept on a narrow makeshift bed near Robin's bed.

It was a difficult day for Captain Locksley. Robin had several meetings with King Richard, and they discussed the current ceasefire and the terms of its continuation they planned to present to Saladin's generals. Talks of peace had become usual many months ago, but this time there was a real chance that the Crusaders would sign a long-awaited peace treaty with Saladin.

Yet, Richard still sought new allies against Saladin. As a result, today Robin had to entertain Rashid ad-Din Sinan, also known as the Old Man of the Mountain. He was the grand-Master of the Assassins of Syria and was at odds with Saladin since he replaced the Fatimids of Egypt many years ago. Peace negotiations and simultaneous search for new allies in the region were the strategies which didn't let Robin hope for the quick end of the peace negotiations. At least they had the ceasefire in the past four months, and they didn't have to fight every day.

In the Holy Land, Robin had a reputation of the brave Captain Locksley. On the battlefield, he was a professional bloodthirsty soldier who killed, killed, and killed, never letting himself to think of being killed. He fought with natural grace, dark beauty, and murderous skills, outwitting Saracens in battles and never thinking of failure, which helped him win all the battles he had led or participated in. Robin's name was spoken in the Holy Land with adoration, fascination, envy, and fear; his enemies knew his reputation in the war, and they feared him in the battle.

Robin was well known for his high sense of honor and humanity as he was one of the few Crusaders who were against massacring Saracen women and children; there were cases when he commanded his men to ensure that children and women had been escorted out of the towns and villages, which were captured by the Crusaders. Robin was respected by his enemies for his honor and humanity. The dauntless assassins – the assassins of Masyaf and of Syria – also respected Robin and even agreed to have alliance negotiations with King Richard the Lionheart.

King Richard loved Robin most of all among his knights and held him in the highest favor. It was said that Robin of Locksley was the King's grand favorite, rivaled only by Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, the Captain of the Second Guard of the King's own forces and Robin's close friend. Huntingdon and Leicester were the most beloved knights of the King of England, his most loyal subjects and closest friends. Robin's men from the Private Guard adored and loved their Captain, who was a good leader and a talented military commander, who knew how to lead and inspire others.

Robin was the best marksman in King Richard's army, if not in all Christian troops in Outremer. Robin was a man of average height and had a lithe, slender complexion, which was far from ideal knightly attributes, but he still was an excellent swordsman, without exaggeration one of the best swordsmen in Christian troops and, of course, in the King's Private Guard he himself headed. His murderous skills with a sword and a bow were ideal for non-stop, brutal slaughter and massacres.

Despite the King's great favor, nobody could say that Robin hadn't deserved his high-ranking position in the King's troops as it was given to him due to the King's acknowledgement of his military talents. He had demonstrated the potential of a skilled soldier and a military strategist in the battle of Messina on Sicily, when Tancred of Lecce seized power after the death of his cousin King William II of Sicily and kept Princess Joan Plantagenet, Dowager Queen of Sicily, as a prisoner, demanding her to marry him.

King Richard had attacked and had subdued the city of Messina, and his knights had saved his sister. Robin had displayed tremendous courage and excellent warrior skills when he alone, without other Richard's soldiers, had managed to sneak into the tower, where Princess Joanna's had been held prisoner; he had taken her out of the prison and into Richard's camp, to her brother's warm embrace.

The King had been impressed with Robin's brave actions in Messina and had remembered the case very well. Later Robin had become the hero in the Battle of Limassol when Richard's troops had captured Cyprus. After the late Head of the Guard had been killed in the battle of Limassol, Robin had been appointed the Captain of the King's Private Guard. By now, he headed the Guard for over four years, and the King had never regretted his appointment.

Robin achieved great glory on the battlefield. Robin's clever and extravagant war strategies saved the lives of King Richard and his comrades many times. Yet, he killed many people for the King and for the glory of God, but he no longer believed in the holy cause several years ago. Every night, he dreamed of coming back home to Locksley, to his beloved Marian. But every nightmare reminded him that he was still in the Holy Land, trapped in a Godless universe of indiscriminate bloodshed and death.

He started hating the Holy Land on the third year of the Crusade as all the thoughts about glory evaporated from his young idealistic mind – there was nothing holy in their cruel and pointless butchering of the Saracens. Robin hated the dark-skinned people, the King's enemies, and whom he killed out of duty to his sovereign. He barely tolerated the smells of blood and rotting bodies. He loathed the heat in the day and the cold in the night.

Robin dreamed of coming back to England. He left his home as a boy, many years ago, but he grew up and became a young man. He got accustomed to living in the desert, but he hated that; the views of yellow sandy dunes haunted him like a nightmare. He longed for dampness, humidity, forests, and rivers in England. He often imagined Sherwood Forest, a plenty of green trees, and green grass. He imagined Locksley Manor and quiet evenings near the pond in the company of his villagers.

Robin often remembered the face of his beloved Marian, her slow, enchanting smile, her shimmering blue eyes, her slender arms and her well-curved figure. All the memories of Marian gave him comfort and strength to wake up in the morning and fight with the Saracens; thoughts of Marian gave him hope that one day they would be able to go back to England, to Nottingham. The thought that he wanted to see Marian at least once more in his life gave him strength to survive through bloody days of fighting under the blazing sun and through lonely nights under with shining stars.

Robin would have loved to dream only of Marian, but, unfortunately, he rarely saw Marian's face and the scenes from their past in dreams. But if his dreams were about Marian, they were not pleasant. Her lovely face was not happy and she didn't smile at him: instead, she screwed up her face in disgust as she reprimanded Robin for going to the war, for killing and for massacring his enemies, for leaving her and choosing glory over a chance to have a life with her in Locksley.

                                                               ææææææ

The night was like many others. Robin was very tired, but sleep didn't claim him despite his physical exhaustion. He was deprived of peaceful sleep well as he was always haunted by recurring, terrible nightmares. He could hear loud cries and screams of pain and agony; he heard everything as clear as he could hear in his waking hours.

Every night, Robin dreamed of the war horrors: hissing clash of sword on sword, sword on shield; loud and desperate screams of pain and death; brutal slaughter on the battlefield; faces of Turkish children and women, screaming and begging for mercy; eyes of dying men, rolling, trembling and whinnying with fear; bodies, whole and with severed limbs and heads, rotting on the yellow sand; the obnoxious, lingering odor of blood, rottenness, sickness, and sweat; the burning sun above the desert, in the dark blue, unclouded sky; and bloodshed on a massive scale.

Robin stretched his legs across the soft sheets. He stiffened, the muscles of his entire body tightened. There was an all-pervading clash of metal upon metal somewhere in distance. The screams of wounded and dying men were muffled, but he heard them. Swords crossed, and people screamed again. Metallic sound was becoming louder and louder, as though someone had been fighting near his tent.

Robin stirred and took another deep breath. The blue eyes flung wide-open; his heart skipped a beat and then pounded harder. Robin awoke and stared at the ceiling of his tent. He strained his ears and heard the same murderous hiss of steel against steel as the soldiers fought outside.

He wasn't dreaming: despite the ceasefire with the Saracens, the Crusaders were attacked. Why the attack was so sudden and how it was undetected in advance, Robin didn't know, and that didn't matter at that moment. The King's life was in danger, and he had to protect his lord and sovereign. He swiftly jumped to his feet; he gripped his bow and a bundle of arrows, his sword on his waist. He hurried to the exit from the tent and ran into the inky darkness.

Outside, Robin stood rooted, turning his head and looking around, trying to assess the threat the Saracen raid could pose. He froze and looked around, his mind still spinning with the remnants of his dreams and yet trying to grasp how it was possible that half of the night guard was absent. He could see some of his fellow Crusaders being involved into the fierce fight with the intruders, but there were all the others was a mystery.

He shook his head, if he were trying to shake off the sense of unreality. He didn't have time for brooding and had to act. The only consolation was that he didn't see many intruders, at least at first glance, and they could be easily defeated, he told himself.

"Much! Much!" Robin cried out as loud as he could to awaken his squire. "Saracen raid! The King is under attack! Much!" His voice became a fevered shriek.

Robin was swiftly moving on the sand until he found a suitable place and crouched, preparing to shoot. He aimed at the chest of the Saracen and fired an arrow. One Saracen fell. He released another arrow, and one more enemy was dead. With deadly accuracy, two more arrows struck the assassins in their necks, and their bodies tumbled to the sand. Robin grinned, pleased with the results of his shooting.

All at once Captain Locksley felt a hand land on his left shoulder. He didn't turn around, thinking that Much had come to him to protect his back. Then violent pain shot in his left side as cold edge of the curved blade cut his skin and deeply sliced his flesh through his ribs. The wound throbbed in acute, almost wild pain, and he screamed in agony. Robin couldn't breathe and gasped for air, but it seemed to be so heavy that he was barely able to inhale or exhale.

He felt lightheaded, and through the mist enveloping him, he saw the crimson, thick blood slipping out of his body. He was sure that the wound was most likely fatal and he would probably die today. He grimaced and tried to move, but his knees buckled, and he fell to the sand, helpless and motionless.

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to look around. His whole being was strained, thinking hard and listening to every sound while he counted the interminable seconds in time to the labored beating of his heart. It meant nothing that he was wounded if the King was attacked. The assassin got away from him, and he posed a threat to the King's life; he had to act quickly.

Robin found his bow and lifted it; a quiet groan erupted from his dry throat as he slowly moved his body. His jaw clenched, his teeth gritted in pain, but he still released an arrow, though it missed its aim and whizzed in inches from the assassin's face.

Startled with an unexpected attack, the Saracen stopped for a moment and ran his eyes across the camp. Robin could swear that their eyes locked for an instant, but then the assassin's tall dark figure moved towards the King's tent. He killed two guards and entered the King's tent.

Robin panicked. His heart started hammering harder to compensate for the massive blood loss; he was tormented by strong waves of dizziness drilling through his temples. He was suddenly angry with himself that he had allowed the Saracen to get away; he felt guilty because the assassin's escape placed King's life in grave danger. He had to protect the King, get help, and get rid of the assassin.

He heard Much's anguished cries as his squire rushed to him and knelt to inspect Robin's injury. They had no time for that now, and the King's safety was their first priority.

"Master! Master!" Much shouted.

"Go, get help, the King's tent," Robin muttered. He half begged, half ordered. He scrambled to his feet, pushing Much away and signaling him to leave and warn others about the attack.

Much didn't move. He paused at loss, unsure what to do. He wanted to help Robin because he saw blood on Robin's tunic and on the sand, but his Master wished him to leave.

"Go! Much, go!" Robin shouted. He sighed with relief as Much got on his wheels and started running in the camp with a loud cry of alarm.

He barely cast a glance at two dead bodies of the guards and entered the King's tent. The picture before his eyes made his blood run cold: the Saracen stood above the King's sleeping figure, with a raised sword in his arm, ready to strike a fatal blow.

Robin raced towards the King's bed. "Your Majesty!" he squealed.

At the sound of Robin's voice, the assassin turned his head and looked at the King's savior. But Robin didn't know that the assassin was only the masked Saracen, in reality Sir Guy of Gisborne, the drop-dead gorgeous master-at-arms of Sheriff Peter Vaisey of Nottingham, the acting overlord of Locksley in Robin's absence, and a landless knight in its true sense. Robin also didn't know who the Black Knights were and why they wanted to kill his King.

In a second, Robin of Locksley was already near Guy of Gisborne. Robin swung his curved sword at Guy, trying to draw him away from the King. Hoping that he would have enough strength to fight with his enemy until others came to the tent, Robin lunged, ducked, and parried, attacking with expert wide and corner blows and slowly driving the opponent deeper into the tent.

It was ludicrous that Robin was fighting with the man who had become his sworn enemy, but who could have been his stepbrother if their parents had married if the fire hadn't consumed them at the Gisborne Manor. If Robin had known the truth, he would have been shocked to the core.

Streaks of sharp pain shot through his left side, stomach, and back as Robin moved, but he didn't care and fought, neglecting pain. He fought for King's life, which was more important than his own wound. His mind was clear and focused, and he knew that he had to seriously wound or kill the Saracen to save his King. Every blow sucked more and more strength out of him, but he kept fighting. He continued losing blood, though at a slower pace.

Robin was a blur of steel in a battle. His fighting style with a sword was graceful, unique, and difficult to imitate. Robin invented his own exclusive lunges, parries, blows, and their combinations, many of which were tricky to mislead his opponents. Even the best swordsmen in Christendom were astounded with Robin's specific fighting style, which he needed to fight against physically stronger and larger opponents.

His unique fighting style let him kill several men with just one blow, like a circular blow and a magic swirl, as well as with a head-blowing spin and a sudden parry. Many of these lunges and parries were technically complicated and could be performed only by knights with great adroitness. Robin's ability to fight with several men greatly helped him to survive in bloody and fierce battles.

Of course, Robin regularly practiced and improved his fighting skills, but he got the greatest practice on the battlefield, in the brutal slaughter of the Saracens. Although he taught his men to shoot and fight, he never disclosed many of his secrets, like specific and rare types of blows, parries, and lunges, as well as their different combinations; he preferred to preserve the singularity of his style because it gave his advantage over his enemies. Many combinations of tricking blows were so unique that almost nobody could remember sequences of his blows, parries, and lunges.

                                                               ææææææ

Guy of Gisborne blocked Robin's blows and parried. He was very astonished, silently cursing over and over again. Locksley didn't suffer from the disadvantages of his light complexion, and he was fighting as though he hadn't been injured, Guy thought. Guy almost believed that that Locksley seemed to be mad or Achillean with his Saracen curved scimitar, a flashing silver in his arms.

As Robin continued shoving him off the King with every new assault, Gisborne began to believe that Locksley, even though he was bleeding and injured, wouldn't let him kill the King. Possibly, he would be unable even to escape if the King's men suddenly appeared in the tent or the King himself rose from the bed. Guy was angry with himself because he had obviously underestimated Robin of Locksley.

After Guy had arrived in Nottingham with Sheriff Vaisey and had learnt that Robin had gone to the Holy Land with King Richard, he had concluded that his enemy hadn't valued what he had been given by generous life if he had dared abandon his people to fight in the distant lands. Guy had started hating the younger man even more ferociously.

Gisborne knew about Robin's reputation in the Holy Land. On the third year of King Richard's Crusade, Vaisey had informed Guy that Robin had greatly distinguished himself on the battlefields of Outremer and had already been the Captain of King Richard's Private Guard for several years. Guy had also learnt that Robin had been the royal favorite and the King's friend. After he had gotten that news, hatred for Robin had consumed his entire being, and he had feared that Robin would return and he would again lose everything to Robin, like he had lost in childhood.

Guy dreamt that Robin would die in the Holy Land, but the news Vaisey had shared with him had been opposite to Guy's dreams – Robin was alive and became the war hero. Then the Sheriff had offered Guy to travel to Acre and kill the King, hinting that he could also kill Robin to become the permanent Lord of Locksley. Guy had been enthusiastic about the opportunity to become the man who would kill the mighty King Richard the Lionheart, so he had travelled to Acre, full of hopes for power and wealth.

In Acre, Guy had done his best to organize the Saracen raid on the King's camp. Vaisey's Saracen allies had warned Guy about the potential danger from the brave Captain Locksley because Robin was able to thwart regicide attempt. Gisborne had seen Locksley in Acre before the attack. One of the treacherous Crusaders had showed Robin to him. Robin and several other King's guards had stood on the opposite side of the narrow street when Guy had watched them from his hiding place.

The Crusaders had laughed at something Robin had told them about, and Guy had been seething with anger, wishing only to run to Robin and punch him in his smug face. Robin's pose had been lazy and pompous; it had only made Guy hate Robin more, for he had always despised Robin's vain nature and arrogance. Guy could think only of the destroyed Gisborne Manor and the years of poverty in Normandy after Guy and Isabella had been banished from Locksley and Nottinghamshire. The plans of cruel revenge on Robin had formed in his mind. Locksley had to die at his blade sooner or later.

Guy had recognized the grown-up Earl of Huntingdon at first glance. It hadn't been difficult at all, although many years had passed since their last meeting on the day when their parents had died in the fire. Guy remembered Locksley as a child: Robin had been a skinny boy with hair of dark sand color and almond-shaped, blue eyes. Robin had grown up, changed, and matured, but his face hadn't lost boyish features, which became clear as soon as Robin's face had broken into a familiar cheeky grin.

As Robin had laughed together with his war comrades, Guy had noticed that the familiar devilish imps of mischief had danced in Locksley's pale blue eyes. The cheeky grins and mischievous smiles, which Robin flashed his friends and everyone so often, irritated Guy since their childhood. At the same time, Guy couldn't deny that the grown-up Robin became a handsome man, with a devilish, captivating charm, to Guy's utter displeasure. With bitterness filling his heart, Guy had concluded that nothing changed in Robin's personality: Robin was a true charmer since childhood.

Robin's good-looking, charming appearance undoubtedly attracted many women. Guy nicknamed Robin a swaggerer because of his charm, top-loftiness, and arrogant, impressive manners. He had easily understood why Marian could have been easily swept over by Robin's charms. Guy also was very handsome, brutally and darkly handsome, but he was cold, reserved, and detached. His gaze was often cold and hard, never mischievous and amicable, unlike Robin's. Guy definitely attracted attention of many women, but he didn't have Robin's light charm and outspoken personality, which made it so easy for many people to like and adore Locksley, seeking his company and enjoying interactions with him.

Having seen Locksley in Acre, Gisborne had found only one positive aspect of their meeting: Robin didn't have a standard knightly complexion, and it would make it easier for Guy to kill his enemy. In contrast to his childhood nemesis, Guy was taller and physically stronger, with broad shoulders and muscular arms; he was slender, but he wasn't lean like Robin. His large, muscular frame and strong arms allowed him to make such powerful, deadly blows with a sword, and he was highly skilled with a sword. Gisborne was glad that Locksley looked a weaker opponent.

Gisborne wondered how Locksley could have earned the reputation of the brave Captain Locksley whom the Saracens feared so much. Talking to the spy of the Black Knights in the King's camp, Guy had snapped that Robin's glory on the battlefield had been highly exaggerated and that King Richard had probably promoted Locksley's reputation because Robin had been his favorite. Guy had said that Robin had a complexion of a courtier, not of a knight. However, Vaisey's spy had laughed at Guy at the top of his lungs and had warned him that Locksley would be the most dangerous rival in any fight.

Fighting with Robin of Locksley in the King's tent, Guy was laughing at himself that he hadn't believed the Crusader's words before. Robin deigned to display the full fruits of his genius with a bow and a sword during the attack. Guy was an expert swordsman and knew his own strengths, and he stood a fair chance of killing even an extremely skilled opponent. But with Robin the situation was different because Robin's fighting style was too different from the one Guy was accustomed to. Now Guy even didn't dare compare his own various fighting talents with Robin's.

Before the raid, Guy had decided that he wouldn't try to find Locksley on purpose because he would have a little time to murder the King and flee. He wanted Robin to die, but it was no time and place for that. He had to kill the King. Locksley could wait, he thought. But he had kept it in mind, thinking that he would deal with Locksley if he quickly found him in the camp.

At the beginning of the attack, Gisborne managed to catch a glimpse of an archer with a familiar profile in a distance. He headed there and accidently stumbled into Robin, who was shooting arrows at Guy's accomplices, killing them one by one. Rage simmered in Guy's veins, and bloodlust blinded him. Guy decided to kill King Richard and Robin on the same night. Locksley was alone, only with his bow, he didn't see Guy, and it was Guy's real chance to get rid of his enemy.

Guy had slowly approached Robin from the back, and had put a hand on Robin's shoulder. Then he had plunged his sword into Robin's side, and Locksley had dropped dead. The injury had seemed to be fatal, and Guy had been sure that he had killed the man whom he hated so much. His heart pounding in delight, he had run to the King's tent; he had killed two guards and had entered.

But Gisborne had been mistaken. Providence had saved Locksley from an immediate death, and at the moment when Guy had been ready to strike a downward lethal blow at King Richard, he had heard a familiar loud voice calling for King Richard. Next moment, Robin of Locksley had appeared near the King's bed and had attacked Guy. And now Guy had to fight with his enemy again, all the more in the King's tent. Guy was shocked that Robin was still alive. It was an unexpected twist of fate.

                                                               ææææææ

Locksley frightened Gisborne in a fight. Robin easily tricked and misled Guy regarding his next lunge or blow, and it infuriated him. He was shocked when Robin was fighting like a madman, as though he hadn't been injured. Never before had Guy dealt with such an adroit, resolute, and skilled swordsman, capable of fighting for his King even with a fatal wound. Guy realized why Locksley's sword fighting style was so dangerous, which was brought to his attention by Vaisey's Muslim allies.

Guy wondered how Robin's passionate desire to save King Richard might have been stronger than his own desire to kill the same man. Was loyalty to the King driving Robin so insane that he was able to fight, tolerating terrible pain? The most amazing thing was that Robin was fighting without self-preservation. Guy wondered whether Robin didn't care for himself, but only for his precious King.

In spite of being lighter and physically weaker than Gisborne, Locksley masterfully used his smaller size against his opponent; Robin was one of the most difficult opponents Guy had ever dealt with.

Robin had what Guy didn't possess – tremendous agility, extreme bravery, rare foolhardiness, and a unique sword fighting style. It might have seemed that Robin fought with scrappiness as his rival might have viewed his blows and lunges as unpredictable and unsystematic. However, an experienced warrior, like Guy, could realize that the perceived scrappiness was in reality the specific feature of Robin's fighting style. Guy suspected that Robin had adjusted the standard fighting skills, which he had gained as a knight, to himself to compensate him for his smaller size as compared to other knights.

Robin was a virtuoso of fighting with a curved Saracen sword. Guy wasn't as proficient with a Saracen scimitar as Locksley had become due to the constant fighting with the Turks. Now Guy almost wished that he could have his old broadsword to fight with Robin because he would have been able to fight better then. Unfortunately, he couldn't have used Christians' typical weapon if they wanted to make everyone believe that King Richard had been killed by the Saracens, not his own countrymen.

Gisborne lunged forward, trying to slice down hard at Locksley's head. Robin ducked and hesitated for a moment as a new wave of pain slashed through his body. Time was passing, but Guy still didn't corner Robin, seriously thinking to simply flee and save his own life. Guy used his chance and tried to pass to the back exit from the tent as they were almost in the corner.

Guy couldn't predict what would happen next. Gritting his teeth, Robin advanced forward and grabbed Guy's right arm. Robin swung his sword and made a deep cut on the enemy's forearm. Through the tatters of the torn sleeve, Robin caught a glimpse of a highly-stylized tattoo – a wolf's head tattoo.

Guy yelled in pain and backed away. Fueled by hatred and desire to repay for the cut on his forearm, the masked Saracen lunged at the King's favorite, wishing to punish his annoying opponent, end the fight, and escape from the King's tent and the Crusaders' camp. Robin looked weaker and weaker, and Guy intended to use that to his advantage. But Guy was destined to fail on that night.

Captain Locksley had a clever plan – to wound Guy in a close embrace by tricking him and catching him off-guard. He planned to use a parallel combination of deceptive movements and then one finishing strike. It guaranteed that he would disarm and defeat the assassin and save the King.

Robin parried a blow with less strength than before, staggered backwards and began falling, but he knew how to use that to his advantage. Suddenly, Robin grabbed Guy's swordarm, as if he were trying to disarm his rival or support himself. Guy had no understanding of Robin's tactic, thinking that perhaps Locksley didn't want to fall and instinctively used Guy to support himself. In an instant, Robin raised his scimitar up and plunged the blade deeply into Guy's right side through the ribs.

Guy didn't anticipate Robin's trick. He bellowed in pain, his sword slipped from his arm – now he was disarmed. He felt Robin pushing the sword forward and then twisting the tip of the blade into Guy's flesh. Then Robin wrapped his arm around his rival's back and again pushed the blade forward, so that the scimitar penetrated Guy's body deeper. Violent pain shot through Guy who gave a howl of pain.

The deceptive blow that had defeated Guy was one of Robin's last-resort sword assaults, and Guy didn't fail to notice the quality of Robin's trick. The blade remained between the two men. They were locked in a lethal embrace, feeling the heat radiating from their bodies. Their eyes met shortly. Robin's light blue eyes looked into Guy's steel blue orbs. They shuddered in shock and trepidation.

Robin gasped at the sight of Guy's hateful and cold eyes. There were murderous hatred and morbid loathing in that gaze, which puzzled Robin. Robin was on the verge of physical collapse, but he still didn't lose all his vigilance he had trained during the years of his service in the Private Guard. The realization struck him that he had already seen those eyes somewhere before, a long time ago. The air around the Saracen was permeated with familiarity, even if his face was hidden, Robin thought.

Robin shook his head, confused. He couldn't have met the assassin before. Interestingly, the dark-skinned Saracens most often had brown or black eyes; blue eyes were a rare feature for the Saracens. But the Saracen had blue eyes, eyes of such a rare color for the Turks! Robin suddenly thought that he had already seen those eyes somewhere else. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Gisborne still held Robin's gaze. He gasped for air as a new wave of pain slashed through his body. He drew a shallow breath, but he couldn't exhale and coughed. He was in horrific pain. Besides, the blade was still inside Guy's flesh; Guy bellowed in pain at the new feeling of the blade twisting in his side.

Guy was shocked with his proximity to Robin, the high and mighty the Earl of Huntingdon, whom he had hated for so long, and now he was finally staring into his enemy's blue eyes; curiously, Locksley's gaze wasn't haughty and mocking, but lost, unfocused, and perplexed. For many years, Guy's tortured mind invented the scenes of his first face-to-face meeting with the grown-up, arrogant, spoiled son of Malcolm of Locksley. But never had he imagined that he would have to face Robin in the King's tent, both of them badly wounded. Never had he thought that Locksley would again cause his demise.

The devil was laughing at Guy: he was doomed to be brought down by Locksley twice in his life. Robin became not only his sworn enemy, but also his most frightful nightmare. What he wanted more than anything in the world at that moment was to be gone from the King's tent and the accursed Arabian city as soon as possible, but he suspected that his injury would prevent him from escaping.

Knowing that he had stabbed and disarmed the disguised Saracen, that the King was safe, Robin found himself feeling an immense relief so shattering that he almost swooned with it. He didn't move, his forehead drenched with sweat, his eyes closed, listening to the frantic drumming of his heart. Then his wound throbbed in pain again, and he groaned, clutching his left side with his left hand.

Robin removed the sword from the Saracen's body, causing his enemy to give a loud groan. Too weak to hold his scimitar, Robin let the weapon slip from his grip, and it fell to the ground. Guy and Robin were weaponless, and then they dropped to their knees. Robin of Locksley and Guy of Gisborne were exhausted and wounded. The fight was over, and Robin had won today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is set in pre-series to the Robin Hood BBC show. I'd like to thank Amaranthe Athenais for her original idea and her help in writing this story.
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter. Robin was wounded by Guy before the fight in the King’s tent. Later, Robin defeated Guy. What happens then?
> 
> Of course, I don't own Robin Hood BBC and the characters. Some characters are introduced by myself.
> 
> Thanks to Amaranthe Athenais for historical information about King Richard the Lionheart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Failure in Acre**

“Robin!” Robin and Guy heard someone’s voice so close to them, their eyes still locked. "Stop them!"

The Crusaders stood near the King’s Captain and the Saracen assassin, holding unsheathed swords and bows in their arms. The tent was illuminated by the torches brought by the Crusaders. They wore anxious or confused expressions. Everyone stared at Robin and the Saracen. As Robin and the Saracen froze in what looked like an embrace, it wasn’t clear who was more seriously wounded.

Guy of Gisborne turned his head, and his eyes widened at the sight of a relatively young, tall Crusader of fair complexion and huge height, with a head full of red-gold hair. His skin was pale, his shoulders – broad and muscular; his posture was majestic and regal. He was undeniably handsome. Guy noticed that the man's fingers were covered with many silver and gold jeweled rings. Guy uttered a cry of horror as the realization dawned upon him – the man was King Richard the Lionheart.

Surrounded by a large group of his guards, the King of England stood quite close to Robin and Guy. The Lionheart was unscathed and fully awake; he held a sword up in his right arm. He wore a crimson velvet mantle with a high collar over a white Crusader tunic; obviously, he had just risen from the bed and hastily put on his mantle. Even without his armor, Richard truly looked like a great warrior.

Gisborne had never been so scared in his entire life. He shuddered in fear, his heart seized with mortal terror. In the Holy Land, Vaisey's accomplices told Guy that the mere sight of the Lionheart, the greatest among all warriors and the bravest of all the Christian Kings, mounted on his powerful war horse, was quite enough to make the Turks flee from the battlefield.

Now Richard was not on his horse, but it didn't matter at all because his imposing personality and cold regality frightened Guy. Guy was ready to flee even at the sight of Richard's unemotional face and hateful, angry eyes that pierced him to the core, to his heart, sending strong waves of dread through his body. Obviously, the King was furious because of the scene of the finished bloody fight in his tent.

Gisborne recognized several people in the crowd that had gathered around the King. One of them was the treacherous Crusader who had helped Guy organize the Saracen attack and had ensured that the raid would be undetected. The traitor showed no sign of recognition what happened in the royal tent. Their eyes met for the shortest instant, and Guy saw only pure loathing in his cold glare. Of course, the crafty and evil man looked at Guy as though he had been the Saracen, the King's potential killer, although he knew very well who Guy was in reality and who had sent him to Acre.

Guy also recognized another young Crusader. He was a young, green-eyed, dark-haired man of an average height; his stern, cold handsomeness was unforgettable. He was the well-known Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester and the Captain of the Second Guard. Robert was the King's second grand favorite, as well as Robin of Locksley's old friend and companion.

Guy was aware of the fact that the Lionheart held Huntingdon and Leicester in the highest favor. They were the so-called King's grand favorites. Huntingdon and Leicester were the two people who would willingly die the first for King Richard and sacrifice everything they had for the monarch's life.

Sheriff Vaisey's allies had warned Guy that Leicester could have been an exceptionally dangerous enemy if he had met him during the attack. Guy had no doubt that the Earl of Leicester's fighting skills were outstanding: he himself had fought with Robert on a tournament in Normandy, and they had ended in a draw while Guy had usually won. Leicester was deadly with a sword and very good with a bow. His archery skills were not as perfect as Robin's, but he never missed his aim at a medium distance. Unlike Robin, he couldn't kill an enemy with closed eyes.

Guy turned his head to face his enemy; then he glanced into Robin's eyes. Locksley was silent, his expression pained. Guy noticed that Robin gritted his teeth, trying to repress his groans. Robin's gaze was unfocused, and Guy was sure that Robin wasn't aware they were not alone in the tent.

Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, stared at Robin and the Saracen. His eyes were shooting daggers; he was furious. "Damn Saracens! Damn them!"

"Captain Locksley!" King Richard exclaimed, his voice thick with undeniable anxiety. "Robin!"

Pools of crimson blood were everywhere on the ground. There were many blood traces in the tent, from the King's bed to the corner of the tent, where Robin and the Saracen fell. It was Robin's blood, the symbol of the King's sacred life and its salvation. There was a large pool of the Saracen's blood in the area where Robin had injured his enemy twice.

"Robin! Robin!" Sir James of Kent, the second-in-command to the Captain of the Private Guard, cried out. "Oh, no," he whispered as he saw a pool of blood beneath Robin's body.

Leicester shook his head in disbelief. He couldn't recall when he saw so much blood after one-to-one fight last time. "Holy mother of God! So much blood! Whose blood is it?"

"I don't know," James muttered. "I don't want to know." He shook his head in shock.

"It is horrible!" Sir Aubrey de Vere, the Earl of Oxford almost choked with words. "Horrible! Have I gone mad or is there really so much blood here?"

"You have not gone mad. There are rivers of blood here," Leicester said tonelessly.

"I hope it is not Robin's blood," Sir Roger of Stoke said.

Aubrey de Vere and Roger of Stoke were King Richard's favorites and entrusted soldiers.

"Oh God! Not Robin!" Sir Legrand de Maulevrier was at loss in shock. He was the fearless Crusader from Normandy, whom Richard kept in high regard.

With difficulty, Robin turned his head and blinked as he saw the King and others. He inclined his head and looked down, on the ground, at a pool of blood that sparkled red in the semidarkness. He was appalled how much blood he had already lost. He moved his body, trying to crawl from the Saracen, but his strengths were leaving him. With a loud groan, Robin fell to the ground.

The guards examined the tent, and it became clear that the assassin had been seriously wounded by Robin in a fight. The King's life was no longer in danger thanks to Robin of Locksley’s bravery.

"Robin defeated the assassin," Sir James of Kent reported.

"Detain him," King Richard said coldly, throwing out his arm in a commanding gesture, his gaze falling for a moment on the assassin. He gave Guy a glance full of rampage and contempt.

"A moment, sire." James bowed to the king, then headed to the assassin.

Next moment, Much entered the King’s tent. A cry of horror coursed through the air as he stared at the picture in front of him. "Master! No! No! No!" he screamed.

"Much, don't scream!" Robert, the Earl of Leicester, reprimanded. The situation was too serious and they had to control themselves; they didn’t have time to calm down a hysterical man.

Much blinked his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. "My Master is wounded… So much blood… He is so skinny to have so much blood in his body…" He looked horror-stricken and terrified.

Much usually controlled his emotions. He was an accomplished warrior and had saved Robin's life many times during the Crusade. The squire killed many Saracens in battles or on Robin's secret missions, like assassinations of Saladin's generals. He had already gotten accustomed to carnage, screams of wounded and dying men, and flame-colored sand soaked with crimson blood – these things were an everlasting part of their lives during the long five years of fighting in Palestine.

But now Much was absolutely heartbroken, beyond any grief because his beloved Robin had been injured. His heart drummed against his rib cage and froze in fear at the sight of Robin's motionless body on the ground. He feared that his Master would die today, and he didn’t want to lose Robin.

"Restrain him," Richard ordered, his eyes were at Much.

"Much, wait. Make one movement towards Robin, and we will take you away from here," Robert threatened; his arm encircled the squire's waist. "Please stay here," he whispered into his ear.

"I must go to my Master! He needs me!" Much persisted.

"Silence, Much!" Robert raised his voice. "Robin doesn't need you now. He needs a physician, not you."

"But… but… Lord Leicester! My Master… Robin is here!" Much couldn’t leave Robin.

"Shut up, Much," Robert thundered. Then he pointed at Much, looking at the guards. "Take him away. Don't let him be here. Not now."

Two guards approached Much and led him away from the tent by force. Outside the King’s tent, Much moaned and wept with pain and fright, releasing tension in a flood of tears.He shouted the name of his Master, he wailed, trying to get to the tent again, but the guards held him firmly. Finally, they took pity on Much and released him. Much sank to his knees on the sand, looking around constantly and restlessly. Then Much started sobbing and calling for Robin, but whether his voice remained unheard or unheeded, no reply came from his Master to his frenzied cries.

ææææææ

Sir James of Kent, the second-in-command to the Captain of King Richard's Private Guard, ordered to surround and shackle the Saracen assassin. They couldn't risk and allow the enemy to be close to the King of England, especially knowing that Richard would surely want to stay near Robin.

Guy of Gisborne sneered as he heard the King's orders. It was exactly what he had expected. It was his death. Gisborne had been cornered, and there was no way to run away from the Crusaders’ camp. He had been injured twice, and the King's soldiers were so close to him. He was on the verge of physical collapse, and he was losing blood. All his strength washed out, and he finally let his large frame drop on the ground. He no longer could remain in a sitting position.

Guy could see Crusaders fussing over unconscious Robin. Several guards approached and surrounded Guy. Now he couldn't see Locksley anymore, but he could hear the King's sharp commands spoken in Norman-French to fetch the royal physician for Robin. Guy was angry that the King was so worried about his favorite; there was nobody who was worried about him because he was among his enemies.

Somebody kneeled to Guy and hastily examined his injuries. The blood surged to Guy’s cheeks, and his face turned pale from fear under his Saracen's mask; he was grateful that he wore the inconvenient mask for disguise in the attack. He uttered a low groan at the first touch of calloused hands at his flesh. The guards roughly grabbed him at his shoulders and forced him to stand on his feet. Then the King’s men shackled Guy’s wrists and ankles. Guy tried to struggle, but he was outnumbered and too weak to resist his captors; he closed his eyes, resigned to his defeat.

Guy of Gisborne had been defeated by Robin of Locksley. He, the masked Saracen, was not only at the King's mercy, but also under Locksley's control. Robin was the Head of the Private Guard, and if he had recovered from his injury, he would be responsible for Guy's interrogation and probably even torture. In Acre, Guy had heard that the Private Guard had always cruelly tortured captured assassins; he could imagine Robin's smug face at the sight of Guy’s tortured by the King's guards. Guy had handed himself to his sworn enemy, the man whom he hated from the bottom of his heart, and he dreaded the future.

Guy could imagine Vaisey's angry face and could hear the Sheriff’s voice insulting his mental abilities and fighting skills. If Vaisey had known what had happened during the Saracen attack, he would have called Guy a pathetic weakling or a good-for-nothing, incompetent idiot. But Guy would have never agreed with the Sheriff of Nottingham as Vaisey had never encountered Robin of Locksley. He had planned the attack very well beforehand, but he had still failed because of Robin's interference.

Guy cursed in his mind that he had agreed to assassinate the King of England and had traveled to the Holy Land. He cursed Vaisey who had chosen him for the mission in the Holy Land. He cursed that he hadn’t killed Robin of Locksley when he accidently stumbled into him near the King's tent. He had utterly failed his mission in Acre – he had failed Prince John, the Black Knights, and Vaisey. Even if he had survived and somehow had escaped from the King’s camp later, the Black Knights would never trust him again. He had lost his chance to be in Prince John's favor after his capture.

So many things would never happen. If he had killed Robin in the Saracen attack, he would have prospered and would have lived a long, happy life in Locksley. As Robin had never been married and had no surviving sibling, Guy would have become the permanent Lord of Locksley and the only rightful Earl of Huntingdon. Sir Guy of Gisborne, the Earl of Earl of Huntingdon and the Lord of Locksley, sounded amazing – it was exactly what Guy had wanted for himself for so long. He believed that he deserved to be granted Robin’s titles and lands after everything what young Robin of Locksley and his father, Malcolm of Locksley, had done to the Gisbornes and personally to Guy.

If he had killed the King, Guy would have been given power and wealth beyond measure. All the Black Knights would have felt in debt to him. Prince John would have been grateful to him, and Guy would have become a royal favorite, like Locksley was King Richard's favorite. Guy would have become King John's most entrusted servant.

If Locksley had died in the attack and Guy had fled from the King’s camp, Guy would have been able to marry Lady Marian of Knighton, even if the Lionheart could have been still alive. Guy liked Marian: she was a beautiful young lady with an old, proud family name and could be a good wife to continue the Gisborne lineage. If he had married Marian, Robin's former betrothed, his revenge on Locksley would have been completed. Guy had been trying to court Marian for more than a year, but she hadn’t been fond of him. Guy suspected that she had still loved Robin of Locksley, waiting for his return from the war. Locksley's death was important to make Lady Marian more prone to his advances.

But now his dreams and his life had been ruined. All his hopes and dreams had been shattered. It was all Locksley's fault. Robin of Locksley was Guy of Gisborne's angel of death and his tormentor. He attributed all his suffering he had ever endured in his life to Robin. Robin should have died in the Holy Land before Guy had decided to travel there. The King's favorite should have been stabbed by the Saracens, dying on the spot or bleeding to death, and his body should have perished in the desert. But Locksley was alive, and the man's invincibility infuriated Guy.

Gisborne was happy that he had at least wounded Locksley. Guy wished Locksley to die from his grievous wound. If Robin had died, it would have been fair because Guy had killed him and, thus, had avenged the disgrace of the Gisbornes and his own sufferings. In this case, both Locksley and he, Gisborne, would have died in Acre and would have been buried in the desert. The thoughts about Robin’s death were the only consolation for Guy.

If Guy had survived, what future would he have? Would he be executed or pardoned by the King of England? Guy knew that the King would probably never pardon him for regicide attempt and an attempted murder of the Captain of the royal guard. Acre and the sand threatened to become Guy’s tomb. The finale would be shame on his name and painful death for high treason, unless he somehow managed to escape or find another way to save himself by cooperating with King Richard.

The thought that he could betray Prince John and the Black Knights crossed Guy’s mind, but it seemed useless. Even if he had cooperated, it would have been unlikely to be pardoned. King Richard was an unforgiving and ruthless monarch, who would also be eminently vengeful because Guy had not only tried to kill him, but also had severely injured the King's grand favorite. Guy was at dead end.

The brave Captain Locksley, obsessed with principles of honor and loyalty, was known to mercilessly persecute the King's would-be assassins and traitors to the Crown. The treacherous Crusader, Vaisey's spy in the camp, had told Guy that Locksley as the Captain of the Private Guard had often presided over trials of traitors and assassins, but that Robin had never executed prisoners himself. Guy had laughed that Robin was so feared by the Saracens, but was still well known for humanity. Guy thought that humanity was Robin's weakness because it made a man weak and vulnerable.

Regicide was a grave crime, and Guy expected that Robin would sentence him to the most brutal punishment – to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. Then his corpse would be buried in the desert, in an unmarked grave, or would be burned to ashes. He would appreciate beheading or hanging more than hanging, drawing, and quartering, but he doubted that Locksley and all the other Crusaders would be merciful to the man who had attempted regicide and had injured their Captain.

If Locksley survived, he would take his revenge on Guy for his attempt on King Richard's life. Guy could imagine how Robin would announce his sentence in the end of his trial. It would be the most amusing. Guy was a dead man walking, and he began to think that it would have been better if he had died from his wounds; in that case, he wouldn’t have been shamed by Robin and all other Crusaders.

Guy opened his eyes and looked at the somber faces of the King’s guards. He was being carried somewhere, perhaps to the prison, he mused. The guards were silent and rude with their prisoner; they didn't care that their rough hands hurt Guy's wounds, causing him more pain. Guy moaned in pain at the pressure of their hands on his skin, but they didn't react. The chains caused him great pain, and he bit his lips not to scream. Of course, he couldn't hope for better treatment as he was their enemy.

One of the guards announced that the King had ordered to throw the assassin into the cell. Guy swore an oath in his mind. He was supposed to be imprisoned even in his miserable condition, while Locksley would be treated by the King's personal physician and would rest in a warm, comfortable bed. It was unfair. He hoped that at least he would be attended by the physician, but he wasn't sure of that. On a flip side, they would soon discover that he wasn't the Saracen, and then they would most likely decide to keep him alive in order to interrogate him later. His disguise and deception bought him some time.

Another thought struck Guy: maybe Vaisey's spy in the camp, the treacherous and cunning Crusader, would find a way to save him from the King and help him escape. He had seen the man among the Crusaders in the King's tent after all. But the hope was vague, but he still hoped against any hope.

Suddenly, they stopped and entered the building; Guy guessed that it was his prison. The guards opened the door, and they continued their way through a long corridor. Guy believed that soon he would see his new home – a damp cold cell where assassins spent the last moments of their lives before executions. One of the guards shouted to bring bandages and asked to fetch the second physician to the prison. Then Guy heard nothing else as he lost his conscience.

ææææææ

The moon had turned from silver to copper in the dark sky and the stillest hour of the night had come, but nobody slept in the Crusaders’ camp after the undetected Saracen attack. After the assassin had been removed from the royal tent, King Richard walked to the place where Robin lay on the ground. Robert, the Earl of Leicester, and Roger of Stoke followed the King. The King knelt to Robin and ran his eyes over Robin's body; Robert and Roger also knelt to their friend.

King Richard sighed sorrowfully, his heart pounding in fear. He didn't remember when he had been so worried before. He feared that Robin would die. The death for the King and England was an honorable and heroic death, but it still was death. Robin was too young to die, and Richard wanted him to live.

"Robin," the King called. His face was unreadable, but the sound of Robin's name was enough to realize that the King was deeply moved by the heartbreaking picture before his eyes.

They sighed with relief because Robin was still in the land of the living. They could see the shallow rise and fall of his chest as Robin was taking shallow and unsteady breaths.

"He is alive," Robert said matter-of-factly.

"Barely alive," Roger underscored.

"He is wounded." Richard lowered eyes and looked at the wound in Robins’ side. He could see blood flowing out of Robin's body, and his heart skipped a beat. He had never seen Robin so brutally sliced.

"And grimly." Robert's voice sounded grave.

"He is almost mortally, if not mortally, wounded," Richard declared what everyone feared to say aloud. He turned his gaze at the guards. “Fetch my personal physician here. Hurry up,” he urged. Then his gaze flew to Robin. “Hang on, lad. You must live,” he said as if Robin could hear him.

Robin's eyes were open, but he didn't hear what the King and the others were talking about.

"Robin, my friend?" Robert uttered.

"Do you hear us?" Roger hoped to see any sign that Robin had been able to see them.

Richard sighed heavily. “He is too weak and in great pain to think clearly.”

Indeed, Robin felt as though he had been in the mist. He cast a short glance at the King, then looked between Robert and Roger. He blinked, but his vision was blurred. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. The adrenaline from the fight had evaporated, and so had all his strength. His body was weak, he was dizzy; he couldn't carry on anymore. He closed his eyes, and the darkness claimed him.

"He lost his conscience," Robert commented.

"It is for the better," the King said flatly.

Roger nodded. "At least he is alive."

As they saw the physician enter the tent and hurry to the King, Richard leapt to his feet. He signaled the doctor to approach him and spoke. “Help Robin,” he asked impatiently.

Although the guards had tried to restrict Much and keep him outside of the King’s tent, they had failed to handle the distraught man. Much had fiercely struggled with them and, having wrenched out of their grip, had hurried to the King's tent. As he was inside and his gaze focused on Robin, the squire stopped and stared at Robin, his eyes brimming with tears. Only one thing interested the loyal manservant – whether his Master was still alive or he had already died without Much at his side.

“Master!” Much shouted, his expression horrified, his heart thundering in his chest

Roger of Stoke came to Much. He grabbed Much’s shoulders and gently shook him. “Much, stop it right now. If you want to be here, then calm down. Be quiet and wait.”

"I’m sorry. I…" Much stammered.

Roger's eyes met the King's. "Sire, should the guards take Much away?"

"No, it is not necessary.” Richard shook his head in denial. "If he wants to be here, let him stay. He will just fight with the guards and run here again." His gaze slid to Robin’s manservant. "Much, don't panic and make noise. Otherwise you will be sorry," he said, his tone not so quite dulcet.

Much gave a slight nod. “Sire, I beg my pardon. Thank you for letting me stay here, with my Master."

The King smiled slightly. “Welcome.”

"Better help us, Much," Robert offered.

"But, Much, please don’t fuss," Roger warned.

One of the tables in the royal tent was empty, and King Richard ordered to take Robin there. Raoul de Déols, King Richard's personal physician, stood near the King, staring at his patient. Raoul was a tall French man of forty years old, who carried off his handsome velvet suit with assurance, and his admirable roman profile was marred by a single imperfection – a slight gap between his front teeth.

"Be careful when you carry him," the physician recommended.

"No worries. We are very gentle with Robin," Robert assured him. "We must find where the wound is."

"Remove the clothes from the upper part of his body,” the physician requested.

The Earl of Leicester, Sir James of Kent, and Sir Roger of Stoke peeled off the layers of Robin's tunic from his upper body. All the clothing was drenched with blood that had also soaked into the carpet on the ground, so much it looked almost black. Sir Aubrey de Vere, the Earl of Oxford, and Sir Legrand de Maulevrier were also inside the tent, staring at the prone form of their Captain with worried eyes.

“Master,” Much whispered to himself. He stood near the table, doing his best not to control himself, fighting back tears. His palm was on his mouth, a gesture of despair and stress.

Raoul, Robert, and James examined Robin, trying to find where the King’s savior had been injured. As soon as Robert raised Robin’s left arm, the brutally torn flesh on Robin’s left side came into view. The raw wound looked fatal and the cut was very deep; it was clear why Robin was losing so much blood.

"Captain Locksley is seriously injured on his left side," Raoul declared.

Much's eyes betrayed his fear, his knees and hands were shaking. He had never seen Robin so weak and so vulnerable. "Is my Master's injury dangerous?" His voice was cracking.

The physician nodded. "Yes, it is. Very dangerous."

King Richard sighed heavily before he spoke. “Can you save him?”

"I’m not sure that Captain Locksley will pull through," the physician opined with ingenuous frankness. "The wound can be fatal – at least it looks almost fatal.” He sighed. “Now we have to cauterize the wound. He may not survive the process, but it must be done."

"Then do that," Richard said neutrally.

"Save him," Robert, James, Roger, Aubrey, and Legrand said together.

"I will do what I can," Raoul pledged as his gaze shifted from the King to the other men. "I will need a clean knife, hot fire, a bowl of fresh water, and many bandages."

James, Roger, and Aubrey hurried to the medical tent where they could find a dagger and other tools. Much brought a bowl of water and placed it on the table; then he lit many candles in the tent, and followed all the instructions as they were preparing Robin for the excruciating procedure.

The groan tumbled from Robin's lips, his eyes half opened. All the eyes were attached to Robin.

“Robin?” Aubrey, the Earl of Oxford, called.

"Master…" Much smiled, but his smile vanished as he heard another groan.

"It seems that he awoke," Legrand noticed.

"He is better to be unconscious during the procedure," Raoul said with a sigh.

"King Richard,” Robin murmured, wishing to learn about the King's fate.

The words were spoken loud enough to understand the meaning. Driven by desire to talk to Robin, Much took a step forward, but Roger of Stoke gripped Much’s forearm, preventing him from leaving.

"Robin wants to see the King," Roger pointed out. "Wait here, Much."

Much blushed. “I won't go there. It is just…" Much broke off abruptly.

Roger patted Much again upon the shoulder as he said, "I know what you mean."

"Robin wants to know whether the King is safe," Much assumed.

"Yes,” Robert agreed.

Roger nodded. "He always put the King before everyone else in his life.”

“I know.” Much was jealous of Robin and the King because he loved Robin most of all in his life.

King Richard approached the table where Robin lay. He took the knight's right hand in his, then leaned down to the soldier. "Do you hear us, Robin?"

"My liege,” Robin drawled; his eyes were foggy.

The King smiled warmly. "We owe you our life, Captain Locksley. England owes you more. You saved our life many times. We are in huge debt to you."

The golden-haired regal head was inches away from Robin's, and Robin recognized the King. Relief washed over him that Richard was alive. “Milord, you have no debt to me. Are you alright?"

"I’m unscratched," the King answered, dropping the royal etiquette. "You will also be well."

"My life doesn't matter if you are safe.” A chocked gasp emerged from Robin’s mouth.

"Oh, Robin, my dear Robin." Richard squeezed his hand in affection. It was both pleasant and painful for the King to hear that Robin, who suffered from pain and was still bleeding, cared for his King's safety so much. The Lionheart was outraged that the assassin had hurt his favorite knight so badly.

"The assassin has a wolf's head tattoo on his right forearm," Robin whispered.

The King stroked Robin's sandy hair. "You wounded him twice in a fight."

"I remember." Robin hardly had any strength to keep his eyes open and even to talk. His left side was like an open bleeding wound, and his heart was beating so fast that he feared it could explode in his chest. But there was something he needed to tell the King. “The assassin has steel blue eyes. There was so much hatred in his cold gaze when our eyes met. He may not be the Saracen."

"The Saracens hate the Christians, and he hated you because you defeated him.”

Robin swallowed hard. “His skin… is so pale as though he had just arrived in the Holy Land.”

Richard frowned. “Did you see that well?”

“Yes, I did." Robin coughed and winced in pain. “There was something strange in him. Unmask this assassin, sire; you need to check who he is.”

Richard heard the knight's quiet words only because his face was close to Robin's. Confused, he shook his head; he was unsure what to answer. "We will do that."

Robin believed that he was on the threshold of death. He had never felt so terrible before. Every movement and every breath hurt him, and throbbing pain ripped across his body. His left side was burning with fire, and the blood in his veins was boiling. He guessed that infection was spreading in his body, relentlessly destroying him, and his time was running out. He wouldn’t live for long, he mused.

"Much… I love him. He is my best friend," Robin murmured. "Sire, I have no heirs. I beg you to transfer some of my estates to Much if I die soon. He deserves reward from me. It is my last wish."

“Robin, we will do that if you wish that – you have my word. But we won't need to do that because you will survive.” Richard didn't know what else to say.

Robin chuckled; he didn’t share the King’s false optimism. “I’m not a fool, sire.”

“Robin, you will be alright.”

“I have another request,” the young Captain whispered. “If I die from my wound, please send my body… to England. I want to be buried in Locksley, in the family graveyard.” His voice was cracking.

"Don't speak about death. You will live,” Richard said steadily.

There was a faint smile on Robin’s lips. “We… cannot control… death, milord.” A quiet groan erupted from his lips. “If I die, then I die a happy man… There is nothing… better than a death for your King."

The King's heart collapsed in his chest. He stroked Robin's hair, smoothing it off the soldier’s forehead. His other hand held Robin's hand. "Thank you for everything, Robin.”

Robin blinked. “If I die, she won't know that I still… love her…” He swallowed hard. "Marian… Marian…"

"She will know, Robin.” The King remembered what Robin had once told him about Lady Marian, his former betrothed, who had broken the engagement when he had decided to join the Crusade. It was an overdramatic moment for King Richard, a great warrior with a heart hardened in many battles and wars. Richard wanted Robin to recover, feeling grateful to him for everything he had ever done for him. He thought to send a messenger to Lady Marian even if Robin had survived.

“Marian,” Robin whispered to himself, his last coherent thought about the woman he had foolishly abandoned five years ago. He didn't hear the King's last words. A dizzying and acute lightheadedness had entirely overcome him. He couldn't think and talk anymore. He shut his eyes and passed out.

The King sighed and stepped aside. At the same time, Aubrey, Roger, and James returned to the tent. Now they were ready to perform the brutal procedure to save Robin’s life.

"You have to hold Sir Robin because he may have pain shock and body convulsions," the doctor said. He was holding a dagger in his hand, which had already been heated up.

“Do everything possible and impossible to save him,” King Richard demanded. Then he spun on his heeland walked quickly away; then he left the tent with two guards, who waited near the entrance.

Robert, James, Roger, and Legrand held Robin during cauterization. Roger and Legrand fixed and held Robin's legs, while James and Robert held Robin’s shoulders. Much took Robin's right arm and squeezed it, offering as much support as he could to his Master. Robert took Robin’s left hand, also trying to give some comfort to his best friend. All the others somberly observed.

At the touch of the heated dagger at the wound, Robin gave a howl of pain, and his body shook in agonizing convulsions. His hands were shaking as he squeezed Much and Robert's hands. They had to force a piece of wood wrapped in cloth into his mouth to prevent him from biting his own tongue. Robin writhed in uncontrollable pain as the doctor performed cauterization. Unfortunately, they had to do cauterization twice as after the first time slight bleeding continued.

As Doctor Raoul de Déols cauterized the broken blood vessels in the surface of the torn flesh, bleeding finally stopped. The physician cleaned the wound with salt water mixed with garlic to prevent infection from spreading in Robin’s body. Robin was still held by the Crusaders during the time when the physician tended to his injury. Stitching took two hours as the doctor was very accurate and gentle, trying not to cause his patient more pain. When they finished stitching Robin’s wound, the dawn was already unfolding out of the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, the physician is taking care of Robin. Robin is barely alive, but he is clinging to life. Guy is imprisoned at the King’s order, and soon the physician will come to him too.
> 
> Will Robin and Guy survive? Or will one of them die? You will have an answer in the next chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Deathly Oblivion**

Dawn broke, all a flame of gold and crimson, but it didn’t bring any joy to the Crusaders who were still shocked with the events of the night. The silence of death that lay over the Crusaders’ camp was appalling, as if a great pact of worry weighed upon everyone’s souls. Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, found King Richard in the second tent; he reported that the physician had finished tending to Robin’s wound. Richard returned to the tent where he usually slept and where Robin had saved him.

"We should carry Captain Locksley into his tent," Doctor Raoul said. "Be very careful."

"He can rest there." The King looked at the makeshift bed in the opposite part of the tent.

"He will moan in pain and will disturb you, milord," Raoul blurted out.

The King gave the doctor a cold glance. "Robin won't distract us. Soon we will move him to his tent. As you said, he must be treated with utmost caution to let his wound heal."

The King nodded at Leicester, and Leicester nodded back, which was a signal for action.

"As you command, milord," Robert intervened, trying to finish an awkward argument.

The Crusaders weren't astonished. For Richard it was a simple act of gratitude, for others – a relief that they could avoid taking additional risk of causing damage to the patient. Moving Robin after cauterization and hours of stitching the wound could result in the torn stitches and aggravated wound that could be downgraded to lethal.

"How is Robin now?" King Richard questioned.

The physician bowed to Richard. "The Earl of Huntingdon survived cauterization. Actually, the situation is not as bad as it seemed at the beginning. It is a sheer luck that the blade missed his heart and lungs. Nevertheless, he may die from blood loss or infection."

"Will he have fever?" Robert asked.

"Yes, he will. He will be feverish soon," the physician confirmed.

"Is Robin in danger of infection?" Legrand's booming voice resonated.

Raoul's brows creased into a deep furrow. "Infection is already spreading in his body."

"Do something to stop it. You must help him," Roger insisted.

The physician shrugged. "I did everything I could to draw the infection away. I bandaged the wound. If he hadn't strained his body so much after he had been injured, he wouldn't have been in such a bad state now.” He stared at Richard, embarrassed and frightened. "I beg my pardon, my liege. I speak out of turn," he told the King.

If Richard was displeased, he didn't show it. "You speak the truth. It is of no consequence."

A long, oppressing silence stretched between them.

Roger stared at Robin. "Robin is so pale."

James rubbed his forehead to relieve a slight knot of tension. "Like a ghost."

"I have never seen our Captain so white," Aubrey agreed.

"Deathly pale," Legrand interjected.

"Lord Locksley is pale because he lost much blood." The physician cleared his throat. "He is a strong young man, but his injury is dangerous and he may not live through the night."

"Robin was stabbed inside the tent, in the fight," Legrand said, his eyes scanning the floor with pools of blood. "Did he indeed lose so much blood?"

The physician nodded. "Yes, he did."

"My Master wasn't injured during the fight," Much enlightened. "He was shooting arrows outside when he was stabbed from the back. He didn't see the assassin. When I came to him, he ordered me to raise alarm and get help to the King's tent. Then he ran to the King’s tent.”

The King raised a brow. "Captain Locksley fought with this wound, didn’t he?”

Much gave a nod. "Yes, he did, milord."

"As always heroic," Legrand commented.

"Robin does incredible things," Robert said.

James half smiled. “I’m not astonished because Robin is Robin.”

"Robin is a unique man," Roger stated.

Richard let his lips curve ever so slightly. "Captain Locksley demonstrated great courage and strength."

"My Master must live. He cannot die," Much whispered.

"Much, you love your Master so much, don’t you?" Richard questioned mildly. His face was expressionless as he rarely gave his emotions free reign.

Much shook his head. "We grew up together. He is like my brother. I love him so much. If he dies, I will also die.” He sighed. “I will do everything for him. I’m ready to give him my life."

Richard smiled. "He will live. He is a fighter and a survivor."

"Robin will be alright, Much," Robert allayed. "Soon he will be up, teasing and mocking you."

"Shutting you up," Legrand added.

James smiled. "Indeed."

Roger forced a smile. "Every day you will have to endure Robin's naughtiness, Much."

"Let him shut me up! Let him tease me! Let him beat me! Let him kill me!" Much prattled. "But let him live! He must live!"

Robert, who stood near Much, pulled Much into a short hug. "He will live," he said as he drew back. "He will need you a lot. Calm down, Much." Then he stepped away.

"Who, if not you, will nurse him back to life? Only you, Much, may tolerate him for longer than his whole life," Aubrey said jestingly.

"He may be very infuriating," Robert agreed, a smile hovering over his lips.

"As well as very self-assured," Legrand added.

"Self-assured?" Roger raised a brow and broke into a soft laugh. "Always."

Aubrey grinned. "And it is not too bad."

"Robin is so full of himself.” Robert rolled his eyes.

"And so are you, Lord Leicester," the King remarked, his eyes kind.

"I don't deny that." Robert smiled, his eyes sparkling in mischief. "I bet our men love Robin and me for our self-assurance and leadership most of all. But Robin bosses more than I do, and the guards still love and praise him. If I want my men in the Second Column to love me more, I will boss a lot more."

The Crusaders laughed at Leicester's joke. A faint smile tugged at the King's lips.

Much didn't laugh. Robin's sickness and helplessness made his heart gallop. He was concerned that he would have to leave his Master in the King's tent. He wanted to take care of Robin. He was the only one who could nurse Robin back to heath. In their childhood, Much had always nursed Robin when he had been sick. Robin didn't thank him and took it for granted, but Much wasn't offended. He loved his master and did everything to please him.

"I’m sorry, but I don't want to leave my Master's side," Much declared, his eyes pleading.

The Crusaders smiled at Much. They were often irritated with his constant grumbling and babbling something about better food and climate. Like Robin, they often threw at him that he had to shut up. They also knew that he was a good man. They admired Much for his devotion and loyalty to Robin. It wasn't common for a servant to care so much for his Master.

"Much, you have our permission to stay with Robin here. However, we don't need to have a crowd here. In the daytime, one of you may stay with Robin and Much. In the nighttime, only Much will be with Robin," the King announced. "Others may visit from time to time."

Much blushed. The King was truly a good man, he thought. Robin loved the King. The King loved Robin. Much loved Robin. Thus, Much loved the King. "Thank you, sire."

King Richard signaled the physician to approach him. The King wanted to talk to him in private. They stepped aside, to the corner of the tent.

Richard stared at the physician. His gaze was impenetrable, but the thin line of his lips revealed tension. "Raoul, tell us the truth. Does Captain Locksley have a chance to survive?"

"Captain Locksley's condition is very bad. The situation is nearly grave, but not as grave as I thought at the beginning," Raoul said mournfully. "Locksley lost too much blood. Fever and infection might take his life, but he has a slim chance to pull through. But he might die even tonight. I have seen many men dying from less serious wounds." He emitted a heavy, audible sigh. "I’m sorry, milord. I did everything I could, but I’m not God.”

The King nodded. “Thank you for your candidness, Raoul.” He was going to pray for Robin's recovery.

ææææææ

After he had been detained, the Saracen assassin was carried by the guards into the prison in the southern part of the camp, near the walls of Acre. Guy of Gisborne was thrown on a straw mattress in the darkest corner of the cell. Despite his bleeding wounds and unconscious state, he was also bound with iron chains to the stone wall; his wrists and ankles were shackled.

Doctor Matthew Béliveau, one of many physicians who worked in the hospital in the camp, came to Guy to tend to his wounds. He was an old Norman man, tall and vigorous, with long white hair falling on either side of a stern face. The wrinkles in his face declared his age; yet there was a flash in his eye which said that he had lost none of his energy.

The doctor ordered to undress the captive up to his waist in order to inspect the injuries. When the upper part of Guy's body was stripped off the clothes, the doctor was amazed to see his pale skin instead of tanned or swarthy skin. As soon as the black mask and the black turban were removed, the doctor gasped in horror, realizing that the assassin was not the Saracen but a disguised Christian man. The unexpected revelation resulted in commotion in the Crusaders’ camp. The guards were shouting something and gesturing wildly, pointing on the cell where the disguised Saracen was placed. Guy was nicknamed the masked Saracen.

Accompanied by at least ten guards, King Richard appeared in the prison, intending to look at the assassin without a mask. By that time, they had already uncovered Guy’s secret, and Richard was merely informed about the findings. For a long time, Richard stood next to Guy in the deathly silence and the oppressive darkness of the cell, watching him with angry eyes narrowed to slits; he barked an order to guard the prisoner heavily, and then he left.

The King's would-be assassin was a tall, muscular, handsome man, with pale skin, steel blue eyes, and thick raven hair. He looked relatively young, probably between thirty and thirty five years old. His facial features and soft skin on his hands pointed at his noble station. As the man was undressed, they had a chance to see that he could be a knight as his chest was creased with old and new, small and several large battle scars. They were clueless who he was in reality and why he tried to take King Richard's life.

The masked Saracen lost much blood and was barely alive after Robin had injured him twice during the fight in the King's tent. The physician took care of Guy: his wound on the forearm was cleaned and bandaged; the deep wound on his right side was cauterized to stop the bleeding. He was wrapped in the warm blanket and was supplied with one pillow to give him a small comfort. As they wanted to keep the mysterious assassin alive, the King permitted the doctor to examine Guy regularly.

King Richard needed the masked Saracen alive only because they intended to interrogate him after his awakening. If he outlived his usefulness or if he refused to talk, the King planned to execute him for high treason. Richard was ready to wait until the assassin recovered; then he could order to put him to the rack to get his confession.

The King of England and the Crusaders were in the King's second tent. They had much to discuss. They had already seen the assassin and were as puzzled as Richard himself was.

"Milord, will the captured criminal live?" Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, asked.

Richard sat in the high-back chair with luxurious red velvet upholstery. His eyes were at the maps that lay on the table in front of him; he didn't look at the Crusaders."The disguised Saracen is gravely wounded. He may die from his injuries. He lost much blood and is already feverish. The physician did everything to save him." He raised head, his gaze hard. "This wretched man should live. We must learn who he is and why he wants me dead."

"We are lucky that Robin wounded him. We could blame Saladin for this raid," James said.

"Make sure the physician regularly tends to his wounds," Richard instructed James. "We must do everything to keep him alive. He cannot die before we interrogate him."

"I will take care of everything, my liege," James obeyed.

"James, you will lead the Private Guard as long as Robin is recovering. You have many things to do.” The King commanded.

"It is a great honor, sire." A brief smile crossed James' face, then faded away.

"Legrand," the King began, "make sure that the prisoner is heavily guarded. Two guards must always stay inside the cell, five men – outside the cell. We don't want him to flee when he feels better, of course, if he survives." His voice was sharp.

Legrand inclined his head. "Yes, sire."

"Legrand, focus on guarding the prisoner. You are free from other duties," the King added.

"My lord, I’m at your service," Legrand told the King, bowing his head.

"Don't fail us, Legrand." Richard gestured with his chin for Aubrey and Roger. "Contact our spies in England and in France. Gather detailed information about all the possible secret plots against us."

Roger nodded. "Yes, my lord."

"At your service," Aubrey joined.

"Roger, you will go to England. We need a detailed report about my brother's activities in the kingdom in our absence.” Now the King’s voice was weary.

“As you command, sire,” Roger said.

Richard was silent as he contemplated the situation. He tapped his chin and then glanced at the Earl of Oxford. "You, Aubrey, must contact our spies at King Philippe's court. The French might have had a finger in a pie." He sighed. "We have heard alarming news from England. William de Longchamp lost his position of Lord Chancellor. You know that he has never been in John's favor. He was deposed and had to flee England in disguise."

William de Longchamp used to be Lord Chancellor in England. He enjoyed King Richard's trust and highest favor, but he was despised by Prince John. King Richard had charged him with governorship of England while he was on the Crusade. His authority had been challenged by Prince John, who had succeeded in driving de Longchamp from power and England.

A heavy silence pressed over them. The King's announcement disheartened everyone.

"It doesn't look good," Roger said quietly. "But it is easy to explain."

Legrand's face fell at the news. "Poor de Longchamp."

"We are not pleased with the news," the King continued. "Contact de Longchamp. He should be in Normandy now. He may know something interesting."

Aubrey nodded. "De Longchamp can definitely help us."

The King sighed. "Aubrey, we are sending you as a messenger to Normandy. You are leaving in two days." As he saw the Earl of Oxford's bewilderment, he elaborated. "De Longchamp has a complete picture about the situation in England. If there are any treacherous alliances in England, he surely knows about them. He also knows what is going on in France."

"Now I understand, milord," Aubrey assured.

"Very well then." The King waved his head, dismissing his subjects.

The King's ire rose to the peak as he analyzed the situation. He had to find out who wished to take his life in Acre and why. Robin foiled the last regicide attempt, and they captured the Saracen, so that they can work to uncover the plot. Many Saracens tried to kill King Richard, and the Private Guard thwarted their plots, but no European man dared attempt regicide on the King of England’s life in the Holy Land.

The plot could have had its roots anywhere in Europe. The captured Christian assassin could have been sent by Richard's enemies – King Philippe II of France, Duke Leopold of Austria, or even Prince John Lackland, Count of Mortain, the youngest of Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine's sons. The thought that Richard's own subjects could have tried to murder him sent the King to the brink of sanity. Richard had to consider all options, and he didn't exclude that his younger brother could have plotted against him.

King Richard was worried about Robin. He frantically prayed for Robin's recovery. Several times, Robin had nearly given his own life to save his King, and Richard would never forget about that. He couldn't lose Robin, his close friend, his most loyal subject and one of his most skilled soldiers. He valued and loved him the most among all his knights.

Before Robin's suspicions were confirmed, Richard had considered sending Robin back to England with commendation to speed up his recovery. Now he doubted that it was the right course of action. At first, they had to learn who the disguised Saracen was. If it had been the plot in England, it could have dramatically changed the situation and affected not only the King's safety, but also Robin's.

The recent Saracen raid had the unprecedented results, and King Richard had to investigate plots against him. But nobody knew that the Saracen raid brought an old personal conflict into the light. Robin was about to meet the acting overlord of his lands in England, the Black Knight, and his sworn enemy since childhood. Robin and Guy were the King's loyal favorite and a king-killing traitor, and they had nothing in common, apart from their sad past. Yet, their paths intercepted again in the most dramatic way; perhaps, it happened for a reason.

ææææææ

Ten days passed since the Saracen raid. It was the end of November, but the weather was unusually hot, with only a slight touch of winter in the air. The raining period was about to come, and already a thin, persistent drizzle began to fall and could soak everything in sight.

In the Crusaders’ camp, there was a significant change in the atmosphere: no new attacks were planned, and everyone was cautious and tongue-tied after the failed regicide. The guards were worried about Captain Locksley's fate and discussed the captured masked Saracen. Partly as a protection against possible new assassination attempts on the King's life, the security procedures were toughened and the Guard was always on high alert.

Inside the inner circles, those who were close to the King, guessed who was behind the thwarted regicide attempt. Sir Roger of Stoke and Sir James of Kent suspected King Philippe II of France of hiring the assassins, stating that Philippe had begun considering Richard his enemy after the Lionheart had broken his betrothal to Phillip's sister, Princess Alys, and had married Berengaria of Navarre. Another reason for Philippe's willingness to conspire against Richard was his old dream to destroy the Angevin Empire by annexing Normandy and some other territories into France's hands.

Philippe was prone to secret plotting and backstabbing in the most cunning ways, and it was indeed possible that he could wish Richard's death. But Richard doubted that it was Philippe of France. After all, Philippe left Acre only recently and had many important deals in France after his long absence. The King suspected that Prince John wanted to murder his absent brother. Richard doubted the fealty John had sworn to him on the day of his coronation, for John had fickle nature and was too ambitious to be satisfied with his position; he expected that John would begin plotting against him sooner or later.

Richard knew that John had secretly dreamt of accumulating military and political power in England and of becoming the King. Their father, King Henry II of England, had also wanted John to ascend the throne after his death, but he had been corned at Chinon by the joint military forces of Richard and Philippe, his French ally, and, thus, had agreed to complete surrender, recognizing Richard as his heir and agreeing to pay Philippe huge compensation.

The outrageous exile of Sir William de Longchamp from England proved that Richard's train of thought was going in the right direction. John even set himself as an alternative ruler with his own royal court and enjoyed being portrayed as a regent in Richard's absence. Apparently, John wasn't fond of being surrounded by Richard's staunch supporters and counselors, so he did everything to get rid of them. John didn't need Richard to return to England from the Holy Land, probably wishing him to be killed by the Saracen arrow.

Richard wrote a long letter to his mother Queen Eleanor in Aquitaine in emotional tones, describing the tragic events and the discovered truths about the disguised Saracen. The message to the Queen Mother was carried by Sir Aubrey de Vere, the Earl of Oxford, one of the lion's most trusted guards. Sir Roger of Stoke departed to England to investigate the situation there, with an accent on the moods of nobles and the taxation system.

The King's favorite was still barely alive in Richard's tent; they waited for several days before moving Robin to his own tent. Robin was lucky to survive through the first, critical night after the attack, and everyone rejoiced. But, by the end of the next day, Robin contracted a high fever. But they hoped that it would pass in several days and Robin was a young and healthy man. In four days, Robin was carried into his own tent, with great caution and utmost care.

The King's personal physician said that Robin's chances for survival were slim. Afterwards, in the night hours, Robin's condition worsened. Serious symptoms of continuously developing infection emerged: redness and swelling of the wound increased, fever intensified, and the temperature of his body skyrocketed. Robin sank into a dark oblivion that threatened to claim his life. Fever was ravaging his body, draining more and more of his strength out of him.

Soon Robin started suffering from pains in his left side, which were most horrible in the night hours. The young Captain struggled with pain and quietly moaned, but tears in the corners of his closed eyes betrayed that the pain was too great to bear. Doctor Raoul attributed the pains to the inflammation in the wound and treated the wound with special herbs. He gave Robin some pain relieving pills and calming draught, which helped Robin fall asleep.

But at times nothing helped, and Robin withered in pain after being given a small doze of painkillers; his gasps of pain filled Much and Leicester with fear for Robin's life. Once Much rushed to Doctor Raoul and demanded to provide him with more painkillers for Robin; but the man said he had few pills left and there were also other patients, but he promised to give Robin the pills next night. Much protested and complained, but the doctor only shook his head. Eventually, the Earl of Leicester punched the physician into his nose. All of them believed that Robin wouldn’t benefit from tolerating much pain.

Next morning, the outraged Earl of Leicester ran straight to the King's tent and interrupted Richard's meeting with Lord Walter Sheridan and Lord Andre de Chauvigny, one of the King's chief generals. He bowed to the King and apologized hastily, in a shaking voice. Richard gave him a hard glare, ready to reprimand his grand favorite, but Leicester said only one word – Robin; it was enough for the lion to dismiss all his generals.

The King saw that the Earl of Leicester looked worried, and the feeling of unease stirred in his gut. Leicester condemned the physician for his unwillingness to properly treat Robin on the back of the man's determination to save pills and herbs for other soldiers; he complained that Robin had to endure dreadful pain, which weakened and tormented him. Leicester even accused the doctor of cruelty and inhumanity as the man witnessed Robin's torments on several occasions and still refused to give the necessary medicine.

The news drew a gasp of mingled amusement and rage from King Richard, and his face changed into white rage. The King immediately summoned the royal physician for an audience. Speaking in a harsh, cold and threatening voice, he ordered to provide Robin with as many pain-relieving pills as necessary. Raoul muttered that he didn't have enough painkillers for all soldiers, and that was the reason why he reduced the dose for Robin. Giving the man a fierce glare, Richard cut him off sharply and gave vent to an angry outburst, fuming and cursing for several minutes. He pointed out that Robin was the Captain of the Private Guard and had a privileged position at the war court.

Embarrassed and frightened, the doctor begged the King for forgiveness on his knees. He pledged to never object to the demands of Robin's squire and friends and swore to present them with pills and herbs at the first request. The King nodded in agreement and said that others could wait if Robin needed the doctor's attention; he assured that they would buy everything Robin needed to assure his recovery, at any price and in any quantity. Robin was too important for the King to lose him.

At Richard's order, the physician's tent was moved to the new location – right near Robin's tent. Now the medic could visit Robin every hour or immediately in case of need. True to his promise, Raoul provided Much generously with everything he needed to alleviate Robin's pain that especially troubled the young lord in the night hours.

ææææææ

As days were passing quickly, Robin's fever didn’t break yet. Robin was tossing and turning in the bed, moaning quietly in pain from his injury and screaming in terror if he was seized by a powerful nightmare. At times, they had to restrain Robin not to let him hurt himself.

Much was always with Robin, never leaving his master's side and spending countless hours near the wounded knight, trying to do everything, possible and impossible, to ease his sufferings. Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, spent three nights together with Much, in Robin's tent, refusing to leave for his own tent in fear that Robin, his dear friend, could die without him at his side. Many Robin's friends and comrades wanted to visit their feverish Captain, but very few of them – only Robin's closest friends – were allowed to come; those people came every day, but only for a brief time.

King Richard visited his favorite at least one time in a day; he always came in the evening, when he was free from his kingly duties. The King asked Much to come to him for a short audience every day to inform him about Robin's condition. He also spoke with his physician, hoping to hear words of hope but received only words of consolation and advice to be ready to give Robin a proper Christian burial.

By the end of the first week, the King's physician gave a grim verdict that Robin would not survive. Yet, despite the recommendation to accept the inevitability of Robin's tragic death, Much and the Earl of Leicester refused to believe in that. Much devoted all his time to Robin, while Leicester had to return to his duties and now spent less time with Robin. The thought of Robin's death crossed the King's mind briefly but the monarch dismissed it; yet, he started visiting his favorite twice per day, and once stayed half of the night with Much and Leicester.

Richard ordered Doctor Raoul to do everything to save Robin, but the man said that at that stage only God could spare Robin's life. The King invited three other competent doctors, who examined Robin and tended to his wound, but their opinion was the same. Nevertheless, Richard's orders were to continue doing everything to save Robin and not to give up on him, even if the case seemed hopeless.

Darkness reigned over the King’s camp, despite many torches that flickered brightly in the cold air, like intermittent red stars. The rain which had been falling all night and for most of the morning ceased abruptly, giving way to a wide, sweeping canvas of the dark night sky.

Waking in the middle of the night to find himself on the woolen rug near the bed, Much thought at first that he must be dreaming. He opened his eyes and shook his head. Everything around him was spinning, his vision was blurred. Much could not help trying to shake off the nightmare but, little by little, it dawned on him that it was real and that he still was in the Holy Land, in Robin's tent, near the bed where his sick master rested during the last days.

Much spent the whole day half asleep, sitting in the chair near Robin's bed or on the edge of the bed. He was tired beyond measure, his body ached. He didn't sleep well since Robin had been injured; he often was so exhausted that his limbs refused to obey him. The hours slipped away, and it was long past midnight when sleep eventually claimed the loyal manservant. Much even didn't notice that he had fallen asleep on the rug near the bed.

Will great effort and slowly, Much scrambled to his feet and stretched his cramped and stiffened back, waking his rigid muscles. Much blinked and rubbed his eyes, his gaze focusing on Robin who lay on the large wooden bed, covered with white silk sheets up to his chin. Much touched Robin’s cheek and gasped, thinking that Robin’s skin was as hot as the sand under the blazing sun.

Much removed the sheet from Robin, his eyes taking in the dreadful picture: Robin’s abnormally thin body, almost skin and bones, his body looked even more emaciated after the long war and the toll fever had on him. Much tried to force-feed Robin by throwing down his master's throat hot bullion, and Robin swallowed it, but it was not enough to compensate for the patient's fading strength.

Much fixed on the bandage below Robin's chest, on his left side. He gasped for air and shuddered in horror at the sight of the bandage soaked with blood that was slowly flowing out of the wound. Much let out a sequence of the most unintelligible words he had ever said in his simple life, cursing himself for his recklessness and for falling asleep.The stitches were torn open and the wound was bleeding began, which meant that Robin was seriously distressed by his fever dreams, moving violently across the bed and straining his body. Much was so deeply sleep that he didn't hear Robin's moans.

Much trembled, his throat constricted. "No, Master! You will not die! You will not die!" he cried out in both aguish and anger. With a half-frightened and half-angry look, he leaned down, his face in inches from Robin's. "You heard me quite correctly. You will not die. If you die, I will die, too, and I’m too young to die. I don't want us to be buried in the desert; I hate all the sand around us."

The manservant knew that he had to fetch King Richard's personal physician. Not wasting precious time, he turned on his heel and ran towards the physician's tent, praying that he would find the doctor there. Fortunately, Doctor Raoul was in his tent when Much stormed there, his expression agonized and panic-stricken, tears streaming down his cheeks. Struggling to steady the wild beating of his heart, the loyal servant stood before the physician and whimpered that Robin had needed urgent help.

Raoul hurried to Robin’s tent. He tended to the wound; he took care to stop the bleeding, using some special blood-stanching herbs, then stitched it again. After Doctor Raoul had left, Much took a bowl of lukewarm water and drew the sheet from Robin’s body; he washed Robin's chest, arms and legs, removing dry blood and sweating from Robin's skin. He covered the young lord with a fresh silk sheet.

Much shot Robin a tender look of longing, and then seated himself into the chair. He started rocking the chair back and forth, staring at Robin with big blue eyes full of despair, tiny tears oozing in the corners of his eyes. He laid his ear to Robin’s chest, listening for some flicker of life, some promise of vitality again. He sensed a slight yet rhythmic pulsing there and detected a faint breath, and so vast gratitude and love engulfed him that for a moment all grew shaken and unreal. His face somber and weary, he watched the chest of his master rise and fall. Unconscious, lithe, feverish, Robin lay within his clasp, not dead yet, and Much had hope. Only hope filled his soul, and nothing else mattered now.

Much had to brace himself, to struggle for self-mastery. “Master Robin!” he cried out. “You will live!”

For a while, Much sat in silence, looking at Robin, as if waiting that his master would open his eyes. At last Robin’s lids twitched, then opened, and his dazed eyes stared at his manservant. Robin let out a scream and then muttered something about bloodshed under his breath, drowning in the stupendous chill nightmare. Then Robin tried to struggle up but only doubled with pain that shot through his side.

“Marian,” Robin chokingly called the name of his former betrothed.

Much restrained his master when Robin again attempted to pull himself into a sitting position. The dying man continued calling Marian, asking her to guide him to Heaven, and Much listened, fat tears trickling down his cheeks. As sometimes happens in the crises of life, the first spoken word is about someone who means a lot in life, and Robin spoke about Marian. At that moment, Much realized that his master hadn’t gotten over Marian, and he wished that now she could have been by Robin’s side.

“Master Robin, you must survive for Marian,” Much said in a trembling voice. “You cannot die now.”

As he finally calmed, Robin stretched a tremulous hand to Much, and the servant took it in his own. Robin whispered the name of his former fiancée again, probably thinking that Marian was with him instead of Much, so he instinctively extended his hand to her, wishing to touch her and feel her close. Much squeezed his master’s had tightly, trying to provide moral support for his beloved Robin and praying that he would survive. He knew he could not ask for greater joy than Robin’s recovery and their return to England, to Locksley, and obviously to Marian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was mainly a Robin-centric chapter. Robin is suffering from his grave wound, but he is clinging to life. In 1x02, Much told Marian that in the Holy Land Robin had dreams and called Marian, so I used that in my story. In the next chapter, you will learn what happened to Guy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Imprisonment**

Robin had finally calmed and now was sleeping. Much waited for any vocal sign of life from his master in silence, and it was a long, dark, interminable waiting. In the tent, the air grew close and frightfully oppressive, and Much was suffering intensely from the heat.

"We have heard what happened to Robin," the low baritone spoke behind Much, the voice edged with sadness and kindness, yet firm and steady. This voice belonged to King Richard. This time, the King spoke using royal “we”, though he was only in Much’s presence. 

Much immediately slid off his chair; he knelt and lowered his head in a respectful bow. "My liege," he mumbled to greet his sovereign.

"Rise," the King permitted, his voice soft, barely audible.

Much felt the hand on his shoulder, which dismissed him from his bow. Slowly, he leapt to his feet and looked at the King. "How can I help you, milord?" In deep respect to the King, he bowed his head again.

"We came to visit our dear friend," the King said with an undeniable affection, his face expressionless, but his eyes full of anguish. "May we stay a little bit?"

"Sire, you don’t need to ask my permission. I’m just a servant; you are the King."

"You are taking care of Robin, and it is prudent to ask," Richard said quietly.

"Sire, I… I…" The servant stumbled with words.

"Much, it is fine. Now take a seat," Richard offered as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Much gave the King a grateful look as his body tumbled into chair. "Thank you, milord."

Richard took Robin's hand in his and gently squeezed it. "Robin is strong. He will not die. He will survive." He tried to reassure the servant and himself that they should have hope. "He saved our life. By the grace of God, he cannot die after that."

"It is a fight with death. It is worse than battles with the Saracens," Much commented.

"We know." Richard sighed, frustrated and aggrieved. "But he is a unique man. God cannot take him from us, for it would be a great loss for England and everyone."

"He cannot leave me. He cannot leave us," Much lamented.

Richard brushed a strand of sandy color from Robin's forehead and touched it. "He is so hot."

"As usual, sire. Nothing changes day after day."

Richard let out a heavy sigh. "We should wait. He will awake."

"I hope so much that he will survive," Much whispered.

"He will awake because he is our Robin," the King said confidently. "He will give us a great surprise and cheat death." He let out a small laugh. "Let's say it is his new crazy half a plan to scare us so much and then awake." But he wasn't sure that it would be so, although the voice in the back of his head said that Robin would show his trump card in the very end.

Much nodded gratefully. Almost everyone, save the King, Leicester, and Much, had already given up on Robin and with heavy hearts had written off the young Captain of the Private Guard from the world of the living. Given that many had already reconciled with the idea of Robin's death, Much was especially grateful to the King for the smallest glimmer of hope.

For a while, the King of England and the manservant sat in a perfect silence, looking at Robin and silently praying for him. At that moment, they were just two men united in their grief and concern for the life of the heroic man who lay feverish and possibly dying on the bed.

Holding Robin's hand in his larger one, King Richard eyed Robin, his heart in his throat at the sight of the ghostly pale and abnormally lean Robin. The King smiled, with a vague, sad smile of the powerful man who adored and loved the wounded warrior very much and didn't want to lose him to death, regretting that his absolute power could not help him to save Robin. He was not a God – he was a mere mortal, even if he was the mighty King of England.

"How is the captured disguised Saracen?" Much asked. "He was also wounded and twice."

Much was so busy with Robin in the past days that he had never uttered a word about the culprit of his master's sickness. He didn't care that the doctors struggled to keep the assassin alive, so that they could interrogate him later about the regicide attempt. Much hated the unknown man with all his heart; he asked the King about the masked Saracen because he wished to hear about his death.

"The assassin has regained his conscience. He is still imprisoned and heavily guarded to avoid any attempt of his escape. Soon we will begin his interrogation."

Much frowned; anger stirred in his heart. "Will he survive?"

The monarch turned to face Much. He gave him a long, searching look, then averted his gaze. "The assassin will live as long as we need him," he said, his face hardening at the thought of the assassin's fatal role in Robin's demise. "Robin will also live," he added in soothing tones, understanding the servant's anger and wishing to allay him.

"I hope he will tell us who organized that regicide."

"Maybe not. Assassins are usually stubborn," the King retorted.

“I know nothing about that, sire.”

"If he keeps silent and refuses to cooperate, he will be executed and will die a brutal death. But, of course, I would love Robin to recover and take interrogation in his hands."

Suddenly, Robin stirred and slowly moved his head. He jerked his head up a few times and swallowed hard. His eyelids fluttered up and down when he awoke from a dream. He moaned and mumbled something under his breath.

“Robin,” the King murmured. He patted Robin on his shoulder; then he put at hand on his forehead, and gently started stroking the warrior's hair, a gesture of affection.

Much jumped from his chair and knelt to the bed, staring at Robin with eyes.

"Master Robin, please wake up," Much pleaded softly. "Please open your eyes."

"Marian," Robin murmured as a corner of his mouth curved up in a ghost of a smile.

"Another dream, this time happy," Richard remarked with a smile.

In the past days, the King witnessed many times how his grand favorite, shivering with fever, moans escaping his dry lips, only briefly conscious and extremely anxious, called his mother and father, his best friends and Much, dreamed of going back to England, to Locksley. Once Robin awoke when the King was at his side, and he begged the King to reward Much for his services in the Holy Land and grant him one of many manors he owned in England.

Robin often awoke from a fitful sleep broken by his nightmares about crimson sand and mutilated bodies rotting in the desert. He couldn't escape from the grip of nightmares about death and bloodshed in neither in fever dreams nor in a healthy state. Richard understood that the images of death troubled his favorite so much; he also saw bloody battles in his dreams and fought desperately against them, though he had never told anyone about that.

Most often, Robin desperately called his beloved Marian; he begged her to come to him and never leave, confessing that he loved her despite so many years and miles of distance and separation. Once, when Much, King Richard, and Robert de Beaumont stood near the bed, Robin again started tossing and talking in his fever; he lamented that he had broken Marian's heart and begged her for forgiveness before his death.

"About _her_ ," Much said. " _About Lady Marian_."

"We sent a messenger to England, to Nottingham, to carry our message for Sir Edward of Knighton, who, we believe, is Lady Marian's father. We wrote the letter by ourselves."

Much was abashed; he didn't expect to hear that. He didn't know that Robin had talked to Richard about Marian because Robin had never spoken about her to him. It appeared that Robin had been more frank with the King, and he was jealous. "Why, sire?"

The King's face darkened. "Robin asked us to bury him in Locksley on the night of the attack. We had to inform Sir Edward and Lady Marian that Robin could die after he had heroically saved us, displaying great courage and unconditional loyalty. We warned Sir Edward that if Robin died, we would send our people to bring him to Locksley," he elaborated. "We promised to take the best care of him and notify them about the outcome."

"Oh," Much gasped. He understood Richard and was grateful. "Thank you, my liege," Much said genuinely. He was startled how deeply the King cared for Robin.

"Marian, forgive me." Robin’s smile evolved into a grimace of heartache and remorse.

"Oh, Master! She loves you! She will forgive you! You only need to survive!"

The lion inclined is head, his gaze focused firmly on Robin's pale face, watching his eyelashes twitch ever so lightly. "He will come home to her, eventually," he said hesitantly.

In reality, the King still didn't know whether he should send Robin home if he survived. There were many conspiracies against him, most likely led by Prince John, and someone needed to investigate the plots, while Robin was the best man for that mission. Since Robin had joined the King's Private Guard, they prevented countless regicide attempts under Robin's leadership and guidance. Robin personally foiled many assassination attempts.

There were other important things King Richard couldn't dismiss. If Prince John had been behind the last assassination attempt on his life, Robin could have been persecuted by John's men in England. A man of low moral principles, John could command to arrest, imprison and execute Robin, avenging the thwarted regicide. If it were John's plot to murder Richard, then soon Prince John would learn who had saved Richard; then Robin's life could be in danger because of John. Knowing his younger brother's vengeful nature, Richard feared for Robin's life if he sent his loyal knight to England.

In addition, Richard still didn't know how the masked Saracen was connected to Robin and what he had against his Captain. The King suspected that the assassin had planned to murder Robin and him on the night of the attack; his gut feeling told him that his suspicions were not groundless. He had to think more, to weight up all the options, of course, if Robin pulled through; he had to protect Robin from all dangers.

Much gave a confused look to the King. "Will we go home if he recovers?" He dared hope that they would return to England, but he doubted that the King would release Robin from his servitude if his master survived; he tried not to let his hopes go up.

"We don't know yet," Richard responded truthfully. "It may be dangerous for Robin. We don't know who our enemies at home are.” He sighed. “We need to think."

"The King, the King," Robin murmured.

Richard and Much reacted immediately and stared at Robin.

"We are here, Robin," Richard confirmed.

"The King is under attack!" Robin exclaimed, tossing his head on the pillow.

"He is dreaming of that Saracen raid. He often dreams about it," Much explained.

"Robin, it is over. You saved us, and we are here only because of your brave actions on that night. Now it is time for you to get better," Richard said; he started stroking Robin's hair.

"Much! Much! Saracen raid! Get help!" Robin shouted.

Robin removed his hand from Richard's and began moving frantically on the bed, each of his hands clenched in fists, his eyes tightly shut. He was taking deep and painful breaths, each of which drew a quiet whimper from his mouth; his newly stitched wound hurt him so much that it was hard to inhale and exhale with full lugs.

"Stop it, Master! Please stop!" Much appealed. "He will hurt himself! His wound will re-open! We have to restrain him again!"

Richard leaned forward and placed his large hands on Robin's shoulders; felt Robin's hot skin and could almost feel his bones, shocked how much weight Robin had lost. Much grabbed Robin's legs, holding him tightly to prevent him from feverish struggle. They spent several minutes in the same position, patiently waiting for Robin to calm. Then Robin's forces left him again, and he sank into unconsciousness, his head falling back on the pillow.

The monarch looked relieved. "You will be fine, Robin. You have to follow your fate, and you not destined to die in the Holy Land. We want you to live and you can do that us. Now take your rest and recover," he told his favorite, even though Robin couldn’t hear him.

Much looked dismayed. "Soon he will begin doing the same again."

"Stay with him and call someone to help you if he repeats that," the King advised. "Now we need to leave. Raoul will come here soon."

"I don't know how to thank you for everything, milord."

"Trifles," the King said, waving his head. "We will ensure that you will take care of Robin and that you have everything you need to help him. If you need anything for Robin and yourself, just ask and you will have it. Our best doctors will continue looking after him, even though they don't have much hope. They will do what we order them."

The King and the servant nodded at each other in silent agreement, and Richard walked out of the tent. Much lingered his gaze at the flap of the tent after the monarch had left.

Much hurried back to Robin’s bed. He sat on the same rug where he had slept on before, and took his master's limp hand in his, preparing for a long night ahead and resting his head on the edge of the bed. After so many years in the Holy Land, Much had learned to sleep between long, grueling battles in all positions, no matter how uncomfortable they were. But tonight he gave himself a word that he wouldn't sleep, keeping a watchful eye on his master.

ææææææ

The masked Saracen had been injured twice by Robin of Locksley, his wound on his right side almost grave. Doctor Matthew Béliveau, the physician who tended to Guy's wounds, was not sure of his survival because of huge blood loss and infection; it was a miracle that Robin's blade had missed Guy's lung as Robin had not only plunged his scimitar into Guy's side, but also had twisted it inside Guy's flesh, damaging inner tissues and blood vessels. Double cauterization of the wound on his side sealed the blood vessels, but blood continued draining form the raw wound for at least one more day.

Guy was kept prisoner under strong guard. Sir Legrand de Maulevrier, who was charged with guarding the prisoner by King Richard, placed many guards in the corridor and near the doors to the dungeon. In spite of Guy's unconscious state, physical weakness, and utter helplessness, two guards were ordered to watch the prisoner inside the cell day and night.

The physician visited Guy twice per day and tended to his wounds, as he was ordered by the King. Guy contracted high fever in the afternoon of the day following the ill-fated attack. For several days, he was somewhere between life and death, barely clinging to life and struggling for every breath. He suffered severe pain from his two injuries, groaning and cursing violently, but the doctor gave him no pain-relieving pills only once because there was the lack of such medicine in the camp and because King Richard's personal physician reserved many pills exclusively for Captain Locksley.

In his fever dreams, Guy tossed and turned on the hard straw mattress, his movements restrained by the chains he could never break. He often awoke in cold sweat and called his mother in French and his father in English, so that the witnesses decided that he probably was half English and half French. At times, he confessed in great love to the co-called Lady Marian, the dame of his heart, as he referred to her; he implored her to save him and wash away his sins with her pure heart.

His heart thumping painfully in his chest, his lungs struggling to breathe, Guy shivered in terror every time when he had the dream about the fire that killed Ghislane and Roger of Gisborne. He begged and begged his parents for forgiveness, for letting them down and failing to take them away from the burning manor. He screamed at the top of his voice that he had failed his parents, again starting to beg them for forgiveness. He muttered something, under his breath, about the roaring of the fire and the howling wind, about his sister and the banishment from somewhere.

The dreams about the fire, the smoke, and the tragic deaths of his parents regularly disrupted his restless oblivion. Once, appalled and frightened by the hideous dream of the burning house together with his dying parents, Guy flung himself forward in an almost convulsive movement, intending to get away from the haunting vision, but not aware in his fever that the chains didn't let him move far away. His wounds throbbed, and he roared savagely in pain. The guards had to fetch the physician, who partly re-stitched the wound on his side.

Gisborne often spelled out Robin's name, which attracted special attention of the King's guards.

"Robin of Locksley," Guy hissed through gritted teeth. "You will pay with your life."

Legrand approached Guy and leaned down; he jerked up Guy's chin and spoke with great vehemence. "What do you have against our Robin? What do you want from him?"

"Locksley! I hate you!" Guy screamed. The sound rose to a shrill pitch of agony and hatred.

Why do you hate Robin? How do you know him?" Legrand asked harshly; then he straightened his spine and stepped aside, still looking down at the assassin.

"Have no fear, Legrand. He will do nothing to Robin. He is feverish," Sir James of Kent said.

Legrand shook his head. "I know that he is in fever. But this can be very serious, because this damned man apparently hates Robin and means harm to him."

"This criminal is imprisoned and guarded. He can do nothing to Robin," James of Kent pressed on. "But I know that all of us are very angry that Robin is struggling for his life because of this cursed murderer. Believe me that I hate him as much as everyone here hates him."

Legrand nodded. "I know, James." He clenched his fists. "I hate this worm."

"This assassin will pay for everything," James assured. "We will make him regret that he was born."

Next moment, the choking emotions of anger and hatred overwhelmed Guy. "Rot in hell, Malcolm of Locksley, where you belong," he muttered. "I swear I will take revenge against your despicable son, scum and braggart Robin. I will avenge the plight of my family."

The Earl of Leicester, who uttered no word until now and watched the scene with an intensive gaze, narrowed his eyes at the prisoner, his eyes taking in the flushed face of the feverish man. "Your life is a poor thing, the masked Saracen, for it will be soon forfeited for your sins," he spoke to Guy as though Guy could hear him. His tone was insolent and cool. "But you are important to us. We don’t want to lose the chance to learn who your master is. You are a miserable weakling and idiot."

Then his inflamed mind replayed the handsome, grinning face of the grown-up Robin, and, unable to bear the hateful sight, Guy shrilled at the top of his lungs that Robin would die at his blade. Then he instinctively tried to break from the chains, but again ended up only hurting himself. James and Legrand restrained Guy and held him roughly by an irresistible force.

Legrand snorted. "I will kill him by myself and right now. I’m barely able to repress my rage."

"Damn him," James hissed.

Leicester laughed morbidly. "How very childish, my dear assassin!" he cried out mockingly. "Do you seek to leave us? Where would you go? There is nothing here but sand and death."

"Let me go! I have to leave! I have to kill King Richard! Vaisey will never forgive me if I fail! I have to find and kill the King!" Gisborne cried out, struggling with all his strength, his jaw grimly clenched to keep his teeth from chattering. "Only let me go! I will give you anything you want! I will be rich and have power beyond measure when I kill the King!"

"Shut up, you piece of trash!" James bellowed.

"Keep your mouth shut, you bastard!" Legrand fumed.

The Earl of Leicester smiled darkly. "He is not a quiet man."

"I will cut his tongue if he continues speaking such things about the King and Robin," Legrand snapped.

"Just don't do that before his interrogation," Leicester pointed out.

"Locksley, I will settle scores with you when Richard is dead," Guy threatened.

There was a dreadful, long silence, so profound that no one could even bring themselves to say a

word and tear their eyes from the masked Saracen.

"Maybe he knows Robin and wants him dead," Leicester declared suddenly, seized by a terrible suspicion. He didn't say that Robin's father had also died in the fire many years ago, although his mind drifted off to that event as soon as he heard the assassin muttering something about his parents and the fire. "But it doesn't mean that Robin knows him."

"And what do you think, Lord Leicester?" Legrand inquired.

"I think this bloody bastard came here to kill King Richard and Robin on the same night," Leicester opined, his voice tense with anger. "This must be reported to the King today."

Guy flashed a vague smile; harshness was gone from his face. "Marian," he moaned.

The Crusaders shared startled glances. Unable to free himself from the sense of bad foreboding, Leicester glanced away, sighing in frustration; the name of Robin's former fiancée also was Marian as well, and he didn't know what to say and think, but he didn't believe in such coincidences.

As though he had felt strong enough to fight the whole world now and win even in his feverish state, Gisborne continued fighting with them, subconsciously hoping that the weight of his body had not extinguished any spark of life remaining in his tall and strong figure. Eventually, they brought Doctor Matthew to the cell, and the man gave Guy calming draught.

Guy of Gisborne was too ill to be aware of what was going on around him. He was completely oblivious of the fact that the guards wrote down all his words and reported to Legrand how he behaved in his fever dreams; Legrand himself heard many things. Every evening, Legrand made a long and detailed report to the King, and his new report was going to be extremely alarming.

Legrand told the King about the strange words which the fake Saracen had spoken in his fever dreams. For a brief moment, the unforeseen revelation left the King speechless, the lines of displeasure forming round his mouth. The expression of a shocked surprise replaced the usually unemotional and dispassionate look on Richard's face; but in an instant, his face resumed its blankness. It was the last thing the King could have expected to ever hear from the disguised Saracen.

An instinctive shudder ran along Richard's spine at the thought that there could have been a certain connection between Robin and the masked Saracen. Based chiefly on the assassin's possible association with Robin and his unhidden hatred for the Captain of the Private Guard, the King decided that his duty was to investigate the failed assassination attempt not only on his own life, but also on the life of the young Earl of Huntingdon. He would speak to Robin as soon as the young man awoke.

ææææææ

Guy of Gisborne was feverish for around a week, trembling in cold like an autumn leaf in the night and drenched with sweat in the daytime as the hot rays of the sun penetrated into the cell from the narrow glassless window and heated his skin. The pain in his wound on his right side was agonizing. Tolerating pain, Guy clenched his teeth and gasped for breath, straining his whole body and causing himself even more pain. The stabs of pain drilled through his chest and his shoulder, and he groaned even when he didn’t try to move his weakened body.

In the rays of the blazing midday sun, Guy opened his eyes and stared at the dark stone ceiling. He turned to face the light and his eyes studied the thick bars on the window. Confused, he blinked, but the vision didn't change and his eyes again fixed on the bars. He tried to move, but failed, again because of the chains; he realized that his wrists and ankles were shackled, and a long chain around his neck was securely clasped to the stone wall.

As he heard someone whispering something somewhere near him, Guy raised his head and his eyes locked with the hazel eyes of the Crusader who stood on the guard inside his cell. He realized that he lay on the uncomfortable straw mattress, in the corner of the cell.

Guy swept his eyes to examine his surroundings. The cell, an ancient casemate pierced by a single embrasure and framed with solid stone walls, was very dark but it did not take him long to understand that there were two guards inside the cell. On the left, the cell was equipped with solid, iron-studded wooden doors with tiny inset grilles; on the right, he saw the small window, with thick iron bars, allowing some light to flow inside. The reality sank in – he was in his prison.

"It seems that his fever broke," one of the King's men said in quiet voice.

"He awoke," the other man confirmed.

"We should notify Sir Legrand."

The man laughed. "Our liege will be pleased that we will be able to start interrogation soon."

Those words produced a shudder of revulsion in Guy. He shut his eyes and cursed. His brain cleared sufficiently to remember what happened and realize that he was the prisoner in the Crusaders’ camp. His trip to the Holy Land was not entirely a bad dream but, in its last stages at least, a horrible reality that materialized in his demise by Locksley's sword and his capture by the King's men.

Guy was quiet for the rest of the day. The two guards inside the cell also kept silent, watching him with sharp eyes, contemptuous smiles on their faces. There was no way of knowing how long he remained unconscious and feverish, but Guy could definitely say that his wounds were properly tended and he was taken care of; yet, he was treated like the dangerous criminal.

In the late afternoon, an ominous silence was broken by the clang of bolts being shot back. The door creaked, and then came the rough voice of two men; they entered to change the guards.

As soon as night fell, the revolting mosquitoes filled the small cell, and the guards began catching them with their arms. One of the mosquitoes landed on Guy's cheek and stung his skin, injecting its stagnant fever into his veins. Guy flinched and whimpered. With a thundering quickness, the guard approached Guy and struck him across his cheek, killing the insect; then he walked away and stood near the door.

Over the next few days, very few things changed. The physician continued coming to Guy every morning, tending to the masked Saracen's wounds and from time to time giving Gisborne unknown medicines and natural herbs as a preventive measure against infection and fever. He was told, surprisingly in Norman-French, that he would survive and recuperate. The medic promised that his injuries, although being serious, would heal, and Guy was rejoiced that Locksley had failed not only to kill him, but also to cause him a lingering injury that would have been killing him slowly if he had it.

Guy of Gisborne used the time of his imprisonment to contemplate the situation. His thoughts chased one another through his brain, driving him to insanity. What little thought remained in his brain was concentrated on the single idea of escaping from the Crusaders’ camp and Acre. He had to get away, out of the reach of King Richard, Robin of Locksley, and anybody else.

Guy knew the only person who could help him to flee – the treacherous Crusader who had been bought by the Black Knights and had helped Guy organize the Saracen attack. He desperately prayed that he would once come to his dungeon; but time was passing, and he still was alone. But Guy knew that the King’s men would soon come to him, and his interrogation would begin.

In a week after his awakening, the King's men came to Guy. Guy overheard how the young guards whispered with trepidation and admiration that the chief jailer of the masked Saracen was Sir Legrand de Maulevrier, King Richard’s friend and favorite; he also heard that Legrand was called the strongest man among the King’s men.

Legrand usually was not among the King’s men, and he was always visited only by the Earl of Leicester, the King's another grand favorite, and several other men.

The interrogators asked Guy many questions, from his real name to his date of birth to the name of the person who hired him; they also asked him about the reasons of his hatred for Robin. They told him that he had talked a great deal about his family when he had been feverish; they asked who his parents were and why Guy blamed himself for their death in the fire. They suspected that he was half English, half French. Guy uttered no word in response.

Days were passing, and the interrogators came again and again, but Guy didn't talk. Guy overheard that the King had ordered to keep him alive. His heart was beating so wildly that he felt quite frantic but forced himself to think calmly. He knew why the King wanted to keep him alive – he needed information about the assassination attempt on his life and the people involved in the conspiracy. So far the Crusaders seemed to have no idea who he was.

But Robin of Locksley surely could say a lot about Guy, but he didn't lead and even participate in interrogation. Guy was sure that Robin would understand his true identity in a matter of seconds, although many years had passed since their ways had parted on the day of the fire. But Locksley didn't appear yet, and he knew nothing about the state of Robin's heath. He remembered about the minutes of his shameful demise in the King's tent; he could almost see again how Robin had disentangled from their embrace and then had lost his conscience.

Guy of Gisborne wondered where Robin of Locksley was at the moment and whether he was recovering from his grave injury. Did Locksley die from his wound? Did Guy manage kill his archenemy? Or did fatal fever get Robin in its grip and was slowly killing him? The Crusaders said nothing about their Captain's condition, but it was normal because it was Guy who had injured Robin.

He ate everything he was given, although food was bad and tasteless. They usually brought him some bread and a bowl of broth and bullion. He noticed that he was always thirsty in the hot climate. He had never known such thirst before, as though his tongue had grown to twice its normal size, filling his mouth with its swelling. He drank water in gigantic amounts, and the guards laughed at him.

The air was shining in the beams of the morning sun, and in the faint light that penetrated into his cell, Guy opened his eyes at the sound of the voices near him, shuddering and cold. He shifted his body on the straw mattress and lifted himself into the sitting position.

The sight of the guards recalled Guy from the world of his thoughts back to reality; he composed his face and didn't flinch under their cold, hard gazes. Gazing at the King's men curiously, he immediately recognized and the Earl of Leicester. Looking at the huge blonde Norman knight, Guy realized that the younger man should have been the well-known Legrand. There was no Vaisey’s spy among them.

Holding a large pile of parchments in his arms, Legrand gazed down at the prisoner for a moment without betraying the slightest emotion, expecting the man to shudder in every limb and stunned by Guy's composure and dispassionateness. Guy cast a sidelong glance at Legrand and suddenly laughed, impressed by the gigantic size and the physical shape of his chief jailor. Baffled, Legrand only raised his eyebrow and stood mute before Guy. After a long silence, Legrand uttered a cry of irritation and gave the prisoner a scornful look, and this time Guy looked around at the King's men.

"Let's begin the interrogation," Legrand said in Norman-French.

Guy remained a moment silent and pensive, hardly knowing what to think of the half-cruelty, half-scorn, with which the giant stared at him.

"Who are you? Who hired you to kill King Richard?" Legrand demanded, turning over a pile of papers, containing information regarding the attempted regicide of King Richard.

"What is your name?" the Earl of Leicester asked calmly.

"Your age?" Legrand continued. "Where were you born?"

"Who hired you?" Leicester pressed on, his tone still calm in spite of deep loathing he felt for Guy.

"Did you come here to kill Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon and the Captain of the Private Guard? Why do you hate Robin?" Legrand rubbed his cheek, his expression angry.

“You arrived in Acre to assassinate both King Richard and Robin of Locksley." The Earl of Leicester was not sorry to make that inquiry, which sounded more like an accusation.

The question about Robin made Guy tremble all over, and he gave Legrand a long, searching look. Legrand smiled at Guy as they realized that the prisoner understood their language. Guy heard a scornful laugh resounding from the depths of the interrogators' chests.

Leicester laughed. "It proves that you, my dear masked Saracen, understand everything we are talking about. You are playing deaf and dumb but you hear and understand us."

"It is clear that this wretched man understands everything," Legrand continued with resolute sharpness. “He simply keeps silent, mocking us and thinking of a way to outwit us."

Guy burst into a fit of laughter, and they gazed at him in utter astonishment. They didn't know that Guy had no single thought of how to outwit them and was really frightened. His current predicament frightened him so much that he opened his mouth to scream at them, demanding them to leave him in his cell, but the sound immediately died in his throat. Something pushed him to keep silent and reject a slim chance to save his life; fear paralyzed his entire being.

"Sir nobody, tell us who hired you to kill King Richard and whether you also wanted to kill Robin of Locksley," Legrand demanded harshly. "Tell us if you are not a madman."

"Pardon me, my masked friend, if I disturb you in the solitude of your cell, which you seem to have grown so fond of," the Earl of Leicester addressed to the prisoner, with an ironical expression of the eye, and a frightful smile. "I warn you that we will learn everything, and if you say nothing, you will pay a much higher price for your silence than a death by hanging."

The light was so faint in the cell that the interrogators couldn’t notice the pallor that spread itself over the Guy's visage and the nervous heaving of his chest and shoulders. Silence prevailed and the prisoner refused to talk, while Legrand and Leicester gazed intently at Guy.

"You refuse to talk and cooperate, don’t you?" Legrand questioned irritably.

Leicester grinned. "He doesn't understand how serious his situation is." He looked down at the man who lay on the thin straw mattress. "Hey, assassin, you are not at home or at the royal court. This is the prison, and you attempted regicide but you failed thanks to Robin. Do you understand the mess you dragged yourself into?"

Guy stared straight into Leicester’s eyes, and then he turned away. He was still silent and stared straight ahead like one overwhelmed with a strange and amusing thought.

Legrand was equally angry and irritated. "This man is playing with fire. He doesn't know what we can do to him if he continues being so persistent and so foolish."

There was silence between them for a moment, and then they talked about Guy without intermission for several minutes. Afraid of hearing his own history as they had already guessed even his true nationality, Guy shuddered in spite of trying to look calm. Legrand said that they would torture Guy if he didn't agree to confess. He sighed with relief when Leicester and Legrand left his cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a Guy-centric chapter. Guy’s fever broke, and his life is no longer in grave danger. He is recovering and is being interrogated by the King’s men, but he keeps silent, not knowing what to do. In the next chapter, you will learn whether Robin will survive or will die in fever.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Awakening**

As the enormous iron door of his cell was closed, Guy of Gisborne felt mortal terror fill his soul, and suddenly another idea took possession of his mind, so used to misfortune. Rage overcame him; he was angry, very angry with Vaisey whom he blamed for his misfortunes, for it was the Sheriff who had sent him to the Holy Land on the mission to kill the King.

Guy uttered blasphemies in French that made two guards, who watched him inside his cell, recoil with horror. He dashed himself furiously against the walls of his prison, tried to break from his chains. He wreaked his anger upon everything, and soon the least thing – a grain of sand, some straw, or a wooden bench near his mattress – led to paroxysms of fury.

The guards had to calm the prisoner, and then they fetched the doctor. They held Guy tightly as the physician gave him a calming draught to prevent him from being too agitated and out of sorts, to avoid hurting himself. Soon, Guy drifted off to sleep, in a sitting position, hugging his knees, his head leaning down the wall, his long legs stretched along the stone floor. He didn't like lying or sleeping on the straw and took advantage of his improving condition to sit on the floor or on the mattress.

The night gradually drew on. Gisborne finally awoke with a beating heart, looking around his cell. There was almost no light, and his eyes searched for something in the darkness, looking in vain for someone. His mind registered the thought that he was alone in the cell, which was unusual as two guards always stayed with him. In silence, he vainly listened for the sound of approaching footsteps in the corridor. He heard someone pause near the door and unlock it, and the clatter of iron locks alarmed him more than the absence of the night guards.

Sir James of Kent stepped from the darkness into the cell. "Gisborne?"

Guy felt his heart beating faster because Vaisey's spy came to him. "Sir James?"

James lit a candle and crouched to better see the prisoner. They looked at one another for a moment, on James's side with a sort of bored indifference and on Guy's side with a choking misery.

James sighed. "I bring no good news.”

“Then why did you come?”

“I want to know why you didn’t flee on time. Do you realize what is going to happen to you?"

The prisoner's reply was a faint shrug and a mirthless laugh. "An idiotic situation, isn't that what you mean?"

James looked angry. "The raid on the camp has not only been failed, but also has done many people no good! What did you hope to gain by letting them capture you?" He sneered. "Did you hope to overpower Robin in a fight? Or did you want to be captured and befriend the King?"

"I didn't plan to be captured and defeated."

"I agreed to make half of the night guard disappear from their posts, which only I could do. I did everything to make this raid successful and help you kill the King, but you, Gisborne, failed because of a stupid thing. And now you are the most dangerous prisoner in the Holy Land."

Guy laughed quietly. "You call a fight with Robin of Locksley a stupid thing, don’t you?"

"Fool!”

“I know,” Guy snapped irritably.

“I told you that it is extremely difficult to overpower Robin in a fight. I warned you that Robin is an exceptionally skilled swordsman, but you laughed into my face and said that Robin is a braggart whose light complexion makes him unable to defeat a man as strong as you are."

"I underestimated Locksley."

James drew a deep breath, seething with anger and barely keeping his voice steady. “I told you to attack the camp, but I didn't want you to attack Robin from the back. I never asked you to kill Robin.” He looked down at the prisoner with a sad smile. "You injured Robin from the back, but he, weak and bleeding, saved the King and became the true hero of the day.”

“He is not a hero,” Guy spat.

“Robin is a hero because the King is still alive only thanks to him!” James shot back. “And you are only the villain who is ironically known as the masked Saracen among our men."

The news came as a shock to Guy who had hoped for the death of Locksley. "So Locksley is not dead, is he?" he forced the words to come out.

"Robin is alive," James replied unpleasantly. "But he is still feverish, and… and we don't know how long his delirium will continue."

Guy's heart was pierced by the utterance of the truth that he hadn't finished off Robin of Locksley. "That's a great pity. I hoped that he would die."

James frowned. "I don't know why you hate Robin, but I have heard about your fever dreams. Legrand and other men are talking. Everyone wonders why you hate their Captain." His face lit by a faint smile at thought of Robin. "I have never wanted to see Robin so badly injured. I have always liked him; I asked you not to murder him in the raid."

"You are right that I planned to kill Locksley on that night, Sir James."

"Don't say my name aloud. Don't you dare tell them that I helped you and Vaisey to organize the raid on the King's camp!” The spy's voice was shaking with fear.

With a painful effort, Guy managed to raise himself on the mattress, trying to measure the distance between Vaisey's spy and himself. The movement brought fresh stabs of pain to his injury and he uttered an involuntary groan of pain. "And if I do that, what will happen?"

"They won't believe you," James said confidently, but his tone didn't convince even himself.

"They will be interested if I confess that Prince John has hired me to kill the King and that you, the second-in-command to the Head of the King's Private Guard, are a traitor who spied on them for more than a year by now," Guy parried, with an arrogant and purse-proud air.

James began walking slowly back and forth across the dungeon, partly as a cure for impatience and partly to calm his nerves. But all at once he stopped dead, his eyes glittering with danger. "I don't recommend that you make me your enemy,” he hissed. “I can simply organize killing you in this cell, but I want to help you and myself."

Guy raised a quizzical brow. "How can you help me? Do you have a plan of escape?"

James shook his head in denial. "No, no. There is no way from here. You are guarded like one hundred most dangerous prisoners. I can do nothing. I could only organize that I have ten minutes to come to you today while all the guards are at the meeting with the King.

"Then you can do nothing."

"There is the way," James countered. "We have to switch sides. Now."

The steel blue eyes widened in amazement. "What? Are you out of your mind?"

"No, I’m not."

"But your words speak otherwise."

"I’m speaking plain truth. Now our only chance to survive is to cooperate with King Richard," James declared. He trailed off and again began pacing the cell, and Guy noticed the man's stiff and tense posture in the distant gleam of the burning candle. "This is only your fault that you were captured. You should have left Robin in the King's tent and run away. You shouldn't have tried to kill him when he appeared in the King's tent and saved Richard."

That was undeniable that Guy should have escaped, but he hadn't done that.

Guy lowered his head. "Yes, I did want to kill Locksley in the King's tent. I wanted it with all my heart. You cannot imagine how much I wanted him to die, to pay for everything he did to me."

James let out a muffled laugher. "But Robin wounded you."

"Yes, damned Locksley," Guy growled between his teeth.

"And he did his job pretty well. You almost died, Gisborne."

"My condition was so bad?" Guy felt his heart thudding anxiously.

"You were very bad. If not for our qualified physician, you would be dead now."

"Perhaps it would be better if I died," Guy muttered, taking his head into his hands.

James abruptly sank to his knees and grabbed Guy's shoulders. "Listen to me, Gisborne. They will interrogate you again, and you must continue keeping silent until Robin comes to you." There was a touch of solemnity in his tone. "He will come if he awakes, and I pray that he survives because I like Robin very much, though you have the opposite opinion."

Guy raised his head, and their eyes locked. "Locksley is my mortal enemy."

The King's man shook his head in disbelief. "You don't know Robin."

"I have known him since his childhood. He–"

James interrupted him. "I don't care what you think of Robin. He is a good man, a rare man." His lips thinned. "And I’m very angry with you that you attacked Robin."

"I don't care what you think."

"You should care. I’m the only man who can help you," James said confidently. "And you will do as I say. You will say nothing until Robin comes to you… And he will come and soon."

Guy scoffed. "Why? Locksley hates traitors."

"Even though he hates traitors and may hate you, Robin is a very human man. He is a good man, and he will listen to your story. If you switch sides and agree to help him, he will collaborate with you to save the King whom he dearly loves," James explained flatly.

"Nonsense! Could you truly believe that such a thing is possible that Locksley will help me, his sworn enemy?" There was a somewhat ironic smile on the prisoner's lips.

"Robin will help even the foulest traitor if the said traitor can help make the King's life safer."

“Locksley is besotted by the King,” Guy said disdainfully.

Sir James of Kent rose to his feet. "I’m running out of time. I have to go. Take care, Gisborne.” He sighed. “Remember what I told you. This is our only chance."

James left the cell, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. Soon the night guards returned to the dungeon, and Guy pretended to be asleep. He half opened his eyes and saw a glimpse of the guards who stood with their swords down like flashes of lightning, scarcely perceptible, for the darkness was great and the small candle they had lit on the table in the corner was not enough to illuminate the cell.

Guy mused what he should do next, but it didn’t seem very clear. He didn't know what to do, for James' advice confused him. The idea of cooperating with Robin seemed outrageous, and Guy couldn't have allowed himself to beg Robin for help. He would never humiliate himself – he would better die, he thought. He shut his eyes, the sights and sounds of confusion floating around him; sleep stole over him, giving him temporary oblivion from his deadly situation.

ææææææ

Fever continued ravaging Robin's body for another week, and the King’s personal physician only shrugged helplessly, saying that they shouldn't hope to ever see Robin awake. But Robin was not dead. It was as though death had gripped his throat and started strangling him, but he struggled for every breath with every fibre of his body, trying to break from the clutches of the darkness.

Robin was in a strange, almost trancelike sleep that left him unconscious of his surroundings and yet not entirely losing the fleeting glimpse of reality. He often heard voices speaking hurriedly nearby, and he thought that he recognized the Earl of Leicester's calm, smoothing voice, Much's desperate and high-pitched tones, sounding very much alarmed, and the King's steady baritone, each of these voices alternating with the deep voice of the phantom.

Robin was slipping in and out of consciousness, muttering something under his breath and calling Marian, his hands roaming over his own body and the silk sheet that was soaked with sweat. Through the thick fog, Robin heard the voice in the back of his head. The voice was low and toneless and infinitely sad, but encouraging him that he couldn't die before he saw.

Through a tenacious thread of memory in his brain, Robin heard a young woman crying desperately, and the harder his heart hammered, the clearer he realized that it was Marian weeping for him due to his death in the Holy Land, mourning for him. And then the same voice in the back of his head said that it was not his time to die, that he couldn't die in his tragic loneliness that had followed him to the very edge of the world, to Acre, since the day when he had left England so long ago.

Robin's eyes filled with tears. “Marian, Marian,” he whispered to himself.

Robin shifted his body on the bed. He knew that he must break out of the lethal fog and find his path in the right direction, to the light instead of the darkness that had enveloped him so many days ago. With the violent effort of will, Robin managed to open the dragging curtain of his heavy eyelids.

The first thing he became aware of was a nagging pain in his left side. The next was the warm and comfortable surface of the bed beneath his body, and then the realization that he was alive and lay in his own tent. He shut his eyes and opened them again, only to close them immediately as the sunlight sent a knife blade of pain ricocheting through his head.

He stretched his limbs, and then furrowed his brows, cringing in disgust from the stickiness of his body and the sheet, which were damp from cold sweat. His brow was streaming with perspiration, and he wondered whether he was still suffering from his fever at that instant. He took the sheet and threw it away from his chest, the sensation of being less wet and warmer pleasant and reassuring.

Robin turned his head and saw his manservant sleeping in the chair near his bed. He smiled, feeling content, and started struggling into a sitting position, but his strengths deserted him and he sank back onto the soft pillows. His chest wasn't covered, and he could see the bandage above his grievous wound. It was very light and warm in the tent, but he found that he was shivering, with fear mingled with excitement that he was alive and that Much was near him.

Shuddering and weak, Robin strained to hear anything unusual. But he could hear nothing strange, apart from the sound of Much's snores. His mind was grappling with the unsettling knowledge that he had been injured near the King's tent and then had fought with the Saracen whom he had almost dragged from his liege's bed. He had only vague memories of what had happened to him, the reality was mixed with strange fever dreams, and he could not say what was real.

Robin was at first surprised and then appalled to realize that he was so lean and that his hair was so unkempt, his fingernails red with blood, but he quickly stifled the urge to stand up and make himself presentable. After all, he had awakened, and there was much time ahead. He cheated death once again, and he was anxious to learn about the fate of the assassin whom he had wounded in the fight.

After a while, he eased himself off the bed and straightened to his full height without a sound. He reached out for the chair, where his bow and sheathed sword were. He leaned down and unsheathed the scimitar, then put the empty scabbard on the chair, and then held the shining blade vertically to reflect the sunlight. As he did so, he heard the sound of racing footsteps behind him.

"Master Robin!" Much called, his voice cracking, his features anxious and sleepy. His big blue eyes fixed on his master's face, and he let out a shaky breath. "You awoke! Oh, Thanks to God! Thanks to God! We have been worried sick about you – we feared that you would die."

Robin gave him a crooked smile. "I’m not dead. I was not going to die," he assured.

"But you gave us a good reason to believe that you would die."

"And I’m sorry for that." Robin sheathed his scimitar and threw it on the ground.

"I know you can say that I’m fussing, but you don't understand how worried I was," Much prattled. "The King was beyond grief. Everyone was worried. With every day passing, we grew frightened that you would never awake." He smiled brightly. "And now you are up!"

"I will not die," Robin assured him, with a sardonic glance in his servant's direction.

Much glanced at him, a frown marring his forehead. "Master, you don't understand what we lived through when you were dying. Why did you get up? You cannot be up! You are still weak!"

Robin shook his head in disagreement. "I’m alright, Much."

Much looked very concerned. He came to Robin and wrapped his arm around his master’s shoulder for support. "I will help you return to bed. You will have to rest at least for a week more."

"I will do that only on condition that you will help me shave and look presentable. I need a bath," Robin agreed dismally. It was no use to play a hero when he actually felt unwell and unhealthy.

"I will do everything for you, Master! I will!"

"I know, Much," Robin replied with a large smile.

Much brought much warm water in the bucket for Robin's bath. As he was still wounded, Robin had to resign to a quick wash. The water was warm, and Much included a small scrap of soap, which Robin used diligently. Unwilling to wear his robe or be naked in the bed even under bedcovers, Robin insisted that he would be dressed in a white silk tunic and trousers; he didn’t wear his chainmail and armory. It was amazing how much better he felt afterward, even if he had to spend more time bedridden.

Freshly bathed and appropriately garbed, Robin landed on the bed and let Much cover him with a fresh silk sheet. His stomach rumbled and he felt that it was becoming urgent to eat. Never had his stomach been so empty. He said only one word, and Much brought some fresh water, stew, crisp bacon, and some fruit. Refreshed and dressed, the young Captain was still hungry, laughing at himself that his immense appetite was like Much’s on that day. But what he wished he couldn't have – he wanted strawberry, apples, grapes,goose, pigeon pies, roast beef, hot scrambled eggs, and some other delicacies, which he liked very much when he lived in Locksley.

Robin asked Much about the assassin whom he defeated. Robin wasn't astounded that the assassin had been the masked Saracen as he remembered very well the man’s blue eyes – eyes of such a rare color for the Turks. Much was surprised to learn that his master had always been suspicious of the assassin, and he looked amazed at the accuracy of Robin's guess. Much also informed Robin that the disguised Saracen was suspected to have come to the camp to kill Robin and the King on the same night.

Robin relaxed on the bed and closed his eyes for a long moment, trying to digest the news. Then a hint of a smile manifested on his face. "Well, Much, I don't know whether the masked Saracen wanted to kill me, but he definitely wanted to murder our King. And I stopped him."

Much sat on the edge of the bed, his face anxious. "Master, I have heard that this disgusting murderer refused to speak. Legrand told me that he would make him confess."

"I will take everything in my hands soon. I will interrogate the assassin."

"Master, you should rest! You cannot do your duty now! You are not healthy!"

"Much, I’m fine," Robin objected, tilting his head to one side. "How is King Richard?"

"Our King was worried about you; he was very distressed and often spent some time near you, sitting on the edge of your bed. Doctor Raoul said that you would die in your deep slumber, and only the King, Lord Leicester, I, and a few other people didn't give up on you."

Embarrassed and oddly tongue-tied, Robin nodded. He couldn't believe that the King had spent time with him in spite of their friendship and Richard's well-known devotion to Robin. It was wonderful to know that Richard had the same deep affection for Robin as he himself had felt for years. He laughed, feeling a fierce, exultant joy sweeping through him at the news that Richard had been so worried.

Yet, Robin groaned as the sharp pain slashed through his side. His wound was still raw, and he had to be careful in order not to hurt himself. "I’m fine. Don't worry," he hurried to say.

"You should rest," Much muttered.

Robin's eyes twinkled, a grateful smile playing on his lips as he stretched his exhausted body on the bed. "Thank you, Much. Thank you for taking care of me."

Much looked at him in amusement. Robin had never thanked him. Sometimes his master showed his gratitude in his own way, but he had never really spoken. "You are not planning to die, aren’t you? Are you feeling worse, Master?" he asked uncertainly, with a nervous undertone. "That's not your style to thank me… This cannot be your way to say goodbye to me… You will not die!"

The smile on Robin's face grew wider. "No, Much. I just thank you for… everything."

Much smiled. "Good!"

Next moment, King Richard emerged on the threshold of the tent. The King smiled, and Robin smiled back at his liege. Richard stood silent and motionless, looking at the Captain of his Guard, his expression obviously relieved and startled as he had found Robin awake.

"Oh, Robin!" King Richard exclaimed. "What a fright you gave all of us! Thanks to God you are alive!"

Robin was amazed that the King dropped the usual royal etiquette. "My liege, I’m very pleased to see you in good health and high spirits."

Much jumped to his feet and tumbled to his knees, but Richard dismissed him from his bow. The monarch walked to the bed and slid down on the edge.

The King looked at Robin for a long, long moment, his expression joyful. He smiled warmly at his Captain, and then fastened his strong arms around Robin's back, drawing his favorite into his arms tenderly and carefully to avoid hurting him.

The King drew away from Robin, and smiled at the younger man. “I’m very happy to see you alive. I feared that you would die, Robin.”

Robin smiled at the King. “I’m not going to die.”

“Robin, I owe you a tremendous debt of gratitude,” Richard said in a silken tone.

“You owe me nothing, sire,” Robin protested. “I saved your life not to do my duty to my King, but because I wanted to save you.”

The King gave Robin a large smile; he loved his young Captain very much, and Robin didn’t know how deep Richard’s affection for him was. “You have always been the most loyal of all my men.”

Robin’s expression changed into haughtiness. “I know.”

Richard laughed. “On the verge of complacency!”

Robin shrugged elegantly, smiling mischievously. “I beg my pardon for my manners.”

“It is fine.” The King lovingly rumpled Robin’s sandy-colored hair. "Now you should rest. I will ask my physician to come and examine you. You will do nothing for several more weeks."

"But, sire-" Robin was going to protest.

Richard interrupted him. "I don't need your sacrifices, and your heath is very important to all of us.” He climbed to his feet.

“I’m fine,” Robin asserted.

Richard shook his head. “Robin, you need more time to recuperate. It is not the question for discussion – it is your duty to yourself and me,” he said dismissively, his tone insistent and firm. “You will have everything what you need. My best doctors will continue taking care of you."

Robin smiled gratefully. “Thank you, milord.”

“Welcome, Robin.” The King smiled back at his Captain. His gaze flew to Much. "Much, take two guards and go to the central market in Acre. Buy everything your master wants to eat."

Much smiled almost serenely. “I know what he wants. He wants strawberry, apples, goose, and eggs.”

"Then go and buy what our Robin wishes. Don't save money, for I will give you as much as you need to buy food and everything else Robin wants," the lion instructed, smiling at Robin's absent-minded face. "Now I have to go, Robin. I will visit you in the evening."

As soon as the King's figure disappeared, Robin smiled easily, full of confidence in his importance to King Richard, and the transformation in him that the smile generated almost made Much give a joyful cry, for his master's entire being seemed illuminated by its radiance at that moment. Much also smiled, content and calm for the first time in so many long days; he was already planning how he would cook Robin's favorite food and feed his master who had lost too much weight.

ææææææ

In order to break the prisoner and make him confess, Sir Legrand de Maulevrier ordered to have Guy flogged. The Crusaders dragged Guy from his cell, through the corridor and outside, to the place where executions were usually carried out by the King's guards.

Guy immediately realized what they intended to do with him, and the thought that he would be beaten like a peasant or, worse, a slave, was revolting and destructive for Guy's pride and ego; but there was nothing he could do to escape from the degradation forced upon him by one of the King's men.

In a minute, Guy of Gisborne was stripped of his clothes to the waist. The Crusaders, with disdainful expressions and contemptuous smiles on their lips, surrounded him. Legrand signaled to begin the punishment of the assassin. An absolute silence was broken only by the ghastly sound of the lash biting into naked flesh of Guy's back. Legrand stood impassively, presiding over the punishment.

"This despicable man deserved his punishment. We spent too much time trying to talk to him and push him to reasonable cooperation, but he remained a stupid fool and a simpleton," Legrand said in a booming voice. "Now let him ripe the fruits of his treason."

"Maybe we shouldn't do this? Maybe not now?" the Earl of Leicester questioned, his eyes focused on the young blonde Crusader, who was administering the flogging and was armed with a long whip made of thongs of plaited leather. "Robin didn’t give this order."

The Earl of Leicester didn't like attending beatings and torture, but he decided to stay in order to prevent punishment before it could become unbearable and excessive. He hated the masked Saracen, but he preferred to talk to Robin at first and then decide how to treat the captive. If Robin had died from his wound, Leicester himself would have brutally killed the assassin; but Robin was alive and his condition even improved in the past several days, although he still was unconscious, as they believed.

"You are too soft, Lord Leicester," Legrand commented, looking at the disguised Saracen who winced in pain visibly at every stroke of the lash.

"You know that I hate traitors. I always condemn them to brutal punishment for regicide attempts, but not in the case when I need them to cooperate," Leicester contradicted. "Besides, the assassin's injuries are still healing. Your punishment will only have one effect: he will feel worse and won't talk."

Legrand gave a hard glare to Leicester. "Robin is unconscious. When he is here, then he will command. The King told me to make this worm talk. I’m doing my duty, Lord Leicester."

"Lord Leicester, we love and respect you, but in this case we have to say that it is not your business. You are the Captain of the Second Guard, not the Private Guard," one of the Crusaders stated; his expression changed from neutrality to satisfaction as he watched the beating. "We are doing this for our King and for Sir Robin. He nearly murdered them and deserves something worse than beating."

"Robin wouldn't have approved of your actions. This man is injured, even if he attempted regicide and seriously wounded our dear Robin," Sir James of Kent interjected.

Leicester nodded. "Exactly."

"The King ordered me to make him talk!" Legrand repeated at the top of his voice.

"Beat this worm! Harsher! Harsher!" one of the young soldiers cried out.

"Make this worm squirm in pain and beg for mercy!"

"He deserves much worse for what he did to our King and our Robin!"

At the same time, Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon and the Captain of the Private Guard, was on his way to the place where the beating of the masked Saracen was happening. As soon as Much told his master that Legrand had ordered to have the masked assassin flogged, Robin climbed out of the bed and asked Much to help him stop that. Despite Much's protests, Robin hurried to leave the tent, wishing to stop the beating of the masked Saracen. Much trailed behind his master, scolding Robin and ranting that Robin needed to stay in the bed; Robin simply ignored him.

Guy tried not to roar in pain, and only the faintest moan erupted from his throat each time the lash touched his back. But the more he was beaten, the more difficult it was becoming to suppress his moans. His face was a mask of suffering, and every part of his body was aching and hurting; the skin of his back was afire, blood dripping from the lacerated flesh. His eyes were closed, and he didn't dare open them to watch the faces of so many Crusaders who enjoyed his pain and agony.

A new strike followed, but again only the faintest groan escaped his set lips. Guy mentally cursed the young Crusader, who was flogging Guy, clearly trying to inflict the greatest pain. The man was not hurrying and instead was savoring every moment, enjoying the effect of flogging on the prisoner. Guy could easily imagine how Robin could have been happy if he had seen his punishment and had recognized Sir Guy of Gisborne in the miserable prisoner.

Robin of Locksley forced a way through the tight-packed ranks of the King's men. There were soldiers from various divisions and columns of King Richard's army there, but all of them knew Robin and stared at him with wide-open eyes. The Crusaders were abashed with Robin’s unexpected appearance, for they still didn't know that Robin had awakened. The men, who served in the Private Guard, bowed to Robin and smiled at their Captain, anticipating that Robin would now stop the beating.

As Robin managed to get far enough through the crowd to see the bloody sight, blood froze in his veins. He knew that the assassin was still healing from serious injuries, as he himself had wounded the man twice. Robin hated when injured people were flogged and put to the rack, although he frequently gave orders to torture captured Saracen assassins and kill them afterwards. But torturing a sick man, even an assassin, was a different thing – it was not a right thing to do. Besides, they had to make the masked Saracen help them resolve the problem of the unknown conspiracy against the King.

"Stop it," a steady, authoritative voice spoke in Norman-French.

Legrand turned his gaze to the voice. "Robin," he whispered in disbelief, his face turning from paleness to crimson. "Stop the punishment," he shouted.

"Very well, then," Robin said. Much stood right behind his master.

"Oh, Robin, thank goodness!" the Earl of Leicester cried out happily. He turned on his heel and rushed to Robin, pulling him into a warm embrace. "My friend, why wasn't I notified that you awoke? I would have immediately come to you," he said with a slight rebuke.

"Robin! Our Robin!" someone cried out joyfully.

"Sir Robin!" the guards greeted.

“Captain Locksley is alive!”

"Lord Huntingdon is alive! He is here!"

“Thanks to God that Sir Robin survived!”

"I awoke only an hour ago, Robert," Robin said with a merry laugh as he pulled away. "Only King Richard knows so far. I thought that he had already sent someone to you."

"Well, I didn't know and nobody told me, but I’m so happy," Leicester said genuinely.

Sir James of Kent smiled. "Robin, I’m delighted!"

Robin smiled. "Thank you. It is good to be back."

"Master, you must rest!” Much exclaimed. “We must go back to your tent! You cannot be here! The physician should examine you! You are not healthy! King Richard himself will kill you if you wear yourself out now when you have just started recovering!”

Leicester nodded in agreement. "I agree with Much, Robin. You should rest."

Robin assured his friends that he felt good. Then he was quiet, staring at Legrand, his gaze cold, his expression displeased. There was an uncomfortable silence between them. Before silence became too awkward and too unbearable, there was a welcome interruption from Robin.

Robin narrowed his eyes. "I wouldn't have come here if I wasn't told about this punishment," he said coldly, his tone changing from friendly and jovial into cold and disappointed.

Legrand knew that his Captain was angry. “Robin, he refuses to talk. I’m fed up with him.”

Robin shook his head disapprovingly. “Legrand, you know how the King and I value you, but this time I have to say that you exceeded your authority. You were commanded by our King to make the assassin speak, but you decided to use a wrong method. You shouldn't have ordered to beat a wounded man, at least because it will only make him angrier and more uncooperative."

Legrand bowed his head, in shame and acknowledgement of his guilt. "I hate this damned man. He attempted regicide and almost killed you, Robin."

Robin smiled wryly. "Legrand, there are other methods to make him more receptive and friendly towards us. Leave him to me.”

“But you haven’t recovered yet,” Legrand remarked.

“I know,” Robin confirmed with a slight nod. "Now, when I feel better, I will try to participate in the ongoing deals, although I won't be able to lead the Private Guard as a soldier for quite some time."

“I will do exactly as you command, Robin.” Legrand’s spirits plummeted. He always felt embarrassed when Robin criticized him.

“Legrand, don’t be offended,” Robin coaxed.

 Legrand’s face recovered neutrality. “I’m not offended.”

Robin gave a nod. "Good.”

“What else can I do, Robin?” Legrand asked.

“Nothing, my friend,” Robin answered with a smile. “Later I myself will interrogate the assassin."

"But please take your rest," Legrand recommended.

"I will," Robin promised. His gaze flew to the assassin who lay on the sand with his face down. "Take him to the dungeons. Ask the physician to come to him," he instructed.

Two men took the disguised Saracen assassin by his arms and started dragging him away. Gisborne didn't struggle with them because flogging had seriously weakened him. Silently, Guy thanked the man who stopped the beating, but he didn't know who his savior was. Guy turned his head and looked around, his eyes darting to the young man with the hair of sandy color who stood in the circle of the smiling and laughing Crusaders; he felt all his body trembling all over as he recognized Robin of Locksley in the man who had obviously ordered to stop the punishment.

Gisborne wanted to look away, hoping that Robin wouldn’t see him at least now, not in his miserable state, but he failed to avoid Robin's curious gaze. The moment when Guy's eyes locked with Robin's time stopped and everything disappeared as the two archenemies contemplated each other in a grave silence. Guy remarked that Robin's face had a curiously blank expression, but for a moment the lines in his face were graven deeper than ever, which could have betrayed his inner tension.

Guy had no doubt that Robin had recognized him. Now there was no way to avoid humiliation and embarrassment. Guy averted his eyes, perhaps trying to minimize the inevitable catastrophe and at least not watch Robin come to him. The immense emotions of hatred and shame bubbled inside Guy’s chest, something so vast and so strong that he thought he hadn't felt so for a very long time as the uncontrollable force of destiny guided him to the meeting with Robin of Locksley.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Bad Surprise**

Robin felt his blood run cold. He held his breath, his heart pounding. For an instant, his face evolved into confusion and then turned into contemplation. He thought that the assassin looked strangely familiar, trying to unearth in the depths of his memory where he had seen the man before. But it was not a mere hallucination – he knew the masked Saracen in the past.

Taking a deep breath, Robin took in the assassin’s features. His left hand fidgeted nervously with his collar; the other hand was at his side. And then Robin's face changed into black fury, and he uttered a curse under his breath. He remembered the face of the young man who had killed his father as he had started the fire in the Gisborne Manor; he recognized Guy of Gisborne in the prisoner.

"Wait! Wait!" Robin shouted. If he spoke too loud, it created significant pressure on the muscles of his chest and his injured side throbbed in pain.

The guards stopped and looked at Captain Locksley, anticipating a new command. Robin stopped near the prisoner, his eyes focusing on the raven head lowered in pain and weakness. Robin asked the Earl of Leicester, who stood beside him, to give him a scimitar. He extended his arm until the tip of his blade caught the point of the prisoner's chin, which pushed the man's face up.

"Guy of Gisborne, what a bad surprise from the past," Robin said matter-of-factly.

Guy scoffed. "Still not dead, Locksley?" His voice was slightly tremulous, so great was the humiliation he had to endure after being flogged and then approached by his mortal foe.

Robin leaned down to Guy's face. "So you are the so-called masked Saracen."

"Astonished, Locksley?" Guy laughed but then groaned in pain.

"I have always known that one day devil will send you back into my life and we will eventually meet," Robin replied, a faint smile on his face, the tip of a scimitar caressing Guy's chin.

Guy smiled painfully. "It is a pity that you are not dead."

"You tried to kill King Richard and me on the same night, didn’t you?" Robin demanded, outraged, his blue eyes darkening with anger, the tip of the sword tracing Guy's throat.

“My life is out of your business.” Robin knew the truth, and Guy didn’t need to say anything aloud.

“Well, it shouldn’t be a surprise for me that you turned a traitor because there can be no more bad surprises about you than I have known what you are capable of doing since childhood. Nevertheless, I have to say that I’m amazed to see you here.” Robin’s voice was no quieter or gentler than it had been before, ringing harshly in the absolute hush of the crowd that had fallen at his first words.

“Shut up, Locksley,” Guy barked.

Robin punched Guy into his stomach with all his strength he was able to gather. Guy screamed in pain, and Robin punched him again, this time in his mouth. Digging his nails into the palms of his clenched fists, Guy cursed aloud and gave a murderous glare to Robin; blood was flowing out of his split bottom lip. Then Robin thrust his fist into Guy's stomach, again and harder, so hard that he himself had to suppress a groan of pain that swept through him because of the increase of tension of his body. Then he again slammed his fist into Guy’s face.

The Earl of Leicester and Much were silent, Much in awe and Leicester in understanding as he had already realized who Guy was in reality and what role he had played in Robin's life.

Robin bent forward, closer to Guy, his face in inches from Guy's. "You killed my father, Gisborne, and I haven't forgotten that,” he hissed between clenched teeth.

Guy eyed Robin contemptuously. “Your father deserved to die.”

Robin slammed his fists into Guy’s face again, and Guy screamed in pain.

The two guards, who were holding Guy about his shoulders, were listening to the dialogue; they were shocked to the core. They didn’t know the back story of Robin’s old conflict with Guy, but the fact that Robin accused Guy of murdering his father took them aback.

“What is this criminal talking about?” Much intervened. “How can he say something bad about Sir Malcolm of Locksley, one of the kindest men in the world?”

Much loved Malcolm and mourned the loss of the man together with Robin. Robin’s father had found Much in the street in Nottingham several months before the fire at the Gisborne Manor; then he had taken the boy to the Locksley Manor and had let him become Robin’s manservant. If Much hadn’t been taken to Locksley by Malcolm, he would have starved to death.

Leicester tugged on the sleeve of Much’s tunic. “Much, don’t interfere.”

“Don’t provoke me, Gisborne. I can become less magnanimous,” Robin threatened; his face was in inches from Guy’s, and it was contorted by anger. “Gisborne, you almost killed me. You wounded me from the back, not in a fair fight, and I won't forget about that easily.”

“Ah, Locksley! Pretending to be chivalrous, eh?” Guy said with a sour laugh. “King Richard’s best warrior and grand favorite?”

Robin nodded at the guards, who held the masked Saracen, giving his permission to beat Guy. The youngest guard slapped Guy hard across his cheek. The first slap was followed by the second and the third and then another more. The second guard slammed his fists into Guy’s stomach and chest until Guy gave a howl of pain. Then Robin raised his hand, signaling to stop.

Robin punched Guy into his face again. “Most importantly, Gisborne, you almost killed King Richard, my sovereign and my friend.” He drew a deep breath, holding it for a long moment; then he turned his gaze at Guy. “Now you will answer to the King for your treason and pay to me for your crimes.”

“Locksley, I don’t care what you are saying.” Guy’s tone was edged with scorn.

“Gisborne, you are not a fool, and you understand the grave nature of your crime,” Robin shot back. “You wanted to kill King Richard. Your deserved sentence is brutal death.”

“Damn you! Go to hell!" Guy growled.

The guard spat into Guy’s face. “Respect King Richard and Captain Locksley, you murderer.”

“Your Captain is a bloody hypocrite,” Guy snapped angrily. “He plays a hero and a soldier, but he is nothing – absolutely nothing.”

Robin slapped Guy again. “Shut up, Gisborne.” His lips curved in a lethal smile. “You are an utter fool. Don’t make your situation worse. Or did the heat deprive you of your last brains?”

After these words, Guy went still. He realized that he had done a wrong thing when he had allowed himself to have a clash with Robin. Perhaps, he lost a chance for survival.

Guy hung his head. He was lightheaded and very weak from all the beatings.

“Robin, what we should with this worm?” Legrand asked cautiously, struggling with anger and rage which overwhelmed his heart; he loathed and hated Gisborne.

Robin turned around to face Legrand, who stood behind him. "Legrand, all my previous instructions are in full force. This man should be fed well and his wounds should be tended to."

Legrand gave a nod. "I will do as you command, Robin."

Robin cast a disparaging glance at Guy, nearly gasping with outrage and fury. "I strictly prohibit everyone to conduct interrogations of the masked Saracen. As soon as I feel better, I will interrogate him by myself. Now you must keep him alive and let him recover."

Legrand’s face changed into bewilderment. "Of course, Robin. Should we take this murderer away?”

“Just a moment,” Robin said quietly, his tone neutral. “Legrand, what I will do to the captive is only the King's deal and my deal. This man is mine and only mine for interrogation. Do you understand me?” There was a ring of finality in his tone.

“Yes, Robin.” Legrand heard Robin’s conversation with Guy; he was shocked with the connections between the King’s favorite and the masked Saracen.

“Good,” Robin said. "Take him away."

Robin lingered his gaze on Guy of Gisborne, his sworn enemy. It angered him madly, that there might have been anybody from his past who wanted to kill the King of England and him on the same night and so cunningly. He didn't remember himself being ever so angry. He clenched his fists, frantic, vulgar curses boiling up in his throat, but then he clutched his wound as pain shot through his side. Much and Leicester rushed to Robin, embracing him about his shoulders.

Robin slowly walked back to his tent, supported by his friend and the manservant. He was watched by the King's men who were happy to see Captain Locksley alive and at the same time stunned with Robin's reaction to the appearance of the Christian assassin. The deal of the masked Saracen promised to be a hot thing after Robin's announcement with the hints that the assassin's crime somehow fell into the area of Robin's private interests. Everyone guessed what Robin would decide to do to the captive, but for now they could only guess and wait.

ææææææ

After the beating of the masked Saracen had been stopped, Robin of Locksley was led to his tent by Much and Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester. Unnerved by the meeting with Guy of Gisborne, Robin overexcited himself and strained his body so much that he couldn't walk quickly and barely repressed his groans as the pain in his side had intensified.

In his tent, Robin was placed on his bed, and Much immediately hurried to find the physician for Robin. Raoul de Déols, the King's personal physician, appeared in Robin's tent in several minutes only to find Robert sitting on the edge of Robin's bed and holding Robin's hand in his own. Robin had already been undressed and lay on the bed; his body was covered with a silk sheet up to his waist.

Doctor Raoul unpacked several bottles with oils and powders. He also extracted many clean bandages and pieces of clean cloth from his medical bag. He instructed Much to bring a cup of fresh water, and the manservant stormed out of the tent. Then the physician walked to the bed and knelt, preparing Robin to tend to Robin's wound.

"Captain Locksley, you are the most disobedient patient I have ever treated," Doctor Raoul said in a lecturing tone. He removed the old bandage from Robin's wound, and once the material was peeled off, Robin gave out a howl of pain. Then the doctor took clean cloth in his arms.

Robin grinned, but his expression was painful as the removal of bandage caused him much pain. "I’m the most intolerable and the most irresistible man in the world."

Robert laughed. "My dear Robin, you are becoming yourself!"

The flap of the tent moved, and Much appeared at the entrance; he was holding a bowl of water in his arms. He dashed to the bed and put the bowl on the ground.

"Lord Huntingdon, you are so full of yourself," the physician said neutrally.

Doctor Raoul soaked clean cloth in the water and placed it on Robin's wound. He expertly performed a long procedure of soaking therapy on Robin's healing wound. He cleaned the damaged area with red wine mixed with rose oil and some salt water, which possessed antiseptic affect on the healing wound.

“Well, it is me, right?” Robin chuckled. “Otherwise there would be no fun in that.”

“There is no fun if Robin and I are not there,” Robert stated with a large smile.

“My Master was a wild and noisy child, and he grew up into a troublesome man,” Much complained, looking at the doctor’s manipulations with the wound. “That’s why my Master is a disobedient patient. I fear I will be unable to make him stay in the bed in the next days. I cannot just tie him to the bed, though I think it is a good idea to do that, so that he cannot stand up and hurt himself.”

“Much, shut up,” Robin snapped.

Much lowered his head. “I’m saying nothing. I’m saying nothing.”

“Robin, you are too harsh,” Robert admitted. “Much is worried about you.”

“Sir Robin, your manservant is right,” Doctor Raoul agreed. “You need more time to recuperate.”

A twinge of nervousness went through Robin. “Was my condition really… so bad after I had been stabbed?”

“Actually, I was sure that you would die in fever and that you would never awake,” Doctor Raoul confessed. “Your wound was almost fatal.” He removed the cloth from the wound and soaked it with oil from the bowl. “You survived, and I believe that God spared your life for some reason.”

Robert sat on the other side of the bed. “Robin, I also believe that it is God’s will for you to live.”

The sandy-haired man shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Master, believe me that you were very sick,” Much said quietly. “I was always by your side, and I saw your agony and pain for many days.” He swallowed heavily. “At times, I thought that you would die if I fall asleep, and then I would never see you again.”

Robin shut his eyes; he felt almost sick of guilt at the thought that he had just insulted Much when the man was simply worried about him. “I’m sorry for being unkind to you, Much.”

Much regarded his master with a small smile. "Master, you don’t need to apologize.”

“Anyway, I’m sorry," Robin muttered under his breath.

Much blushed, and his eyes grew wide. Robin had never apologized to him before, though he had often hurt Much, at times even deliberately. “Thank you, Master,” he answered with a large smile, warmth blossoming in his heart that was beating faster in delight.

Robin smiled at his loyal manservant. “Welcome, Much.”

Doctor Raoul took a large bottle filled with rose oil from his medical bag. As Much brought a cup of fresh water, the doctor measured a few splashes of liquid in the cup. Then the physician soaked a fresh bandage with the liquid and placed it on Robin’s left side.

“Ah!” Robin moaned at the touch of the cloth with his wound. The sensation was cool and irritating.

“You have to be patient, Sir Robin,” Raoul said in soothing tones. “We need to keep it on your wound for at least five minutes.”

“Oh.” Robin gritted his teeth at the unpleasant sensation on his hurt.

“Doctor Raoul, how is the wound healing?” Robert inquired, his gaze focused at Robin’s side.

The physician lifted his eyes and stared at Robin. “It is healing well,” he informed. “Captain Locksley doesn’t have any infection or inflammation, and he won’t contract another fever.”

A look of vulnerability crossed Robin’s face. “Does this injury… have any lingering effects?”

“No, it doesn’t,” the doctor responded with confidence, sliding his fingers across the muscles of his patient’s side. “Sir Robin, you had a penetrating injury in your left side, but neither your lungs nor any other vital organs were damaged.” He muttered something unclear under his breath. “It is a miracle that the assassin’s blade didn’t pierce your heart and that you didn’t die on the spot.”

Much and Robert felt their bodies trembling as their minds drifted off to the moments of Robin’s demise in the King’s tent. The visions of Robin withering in pain, moaning quietly, and shaking in convulsions were dreadful and engraved into their memory forever.

Robin felt his heart filling with mortal terror; it seemed that he had been very lucky to survive. “I was shooting arrows when I was stabbed by the masked Saracen. I think I slightly changed the position of my body when he stabbed me; it should be the reason why the sword didn’t damage my heart.”

“Most likely, you are right,” the physician said. “If the angle of the penetration had been a little different, you would have already been dead.”

“Master, I was so scared when we found you in the King’s tent,” Much lamented, his expression shocked, his voice anguished.

Robin smiled. “Much, I survived. It will be fine.”

The physician finished the oil treatment of the wound. Then he bandaged it, trying to be as gentle as he could, but there was no way to avoid causing Robin at least some pain. He got to his feet and took another bottle with a white powder. He took a cup and added the powder into the water. Raoul nodded at Robert and Much, and they pulled Robin up from the pillows.

The doctor brought the cup to Robin’s lips. “Drink this, Captain Locksley.”

“What is it?” Robin was dumbfounded.

“Sleeping draught mixed with painkilling herbs,” the physician clarified.

“Thank you.” Robin’s lips were trembling as he drank the thick liquid.

Doctor Raoul sighed with relief as Robin emptied the cup. “Sir Robin, you will fall asleep soon. Your sleep will be calm and peaceful; you won’t be plagued by nightmares.” His gaze slid to Much. “Take care of your master, Much. If something happens to him, come to me.” He chuckled. “But I don’t think that he will awake until tomorrow’s evening. He will have much time to rest.”

Robin scowled at the physician, understanding that he had been given sleeping draught to prevent him from leaving his bed. He drew a deep, angry breath, then frowned at the sight of Robert’s smiling face and Much’s relieved expression. And yet, he couldn’t deny that he hadn’t recovered yet and, thus, needed much rest. He was even glad to some extent that he would be able to have a peaceful sleep and forget the dreadful reality – the regicide attempted by Guy of Gisborne.

Doctor Raoul gave Much more instructions. He bowed to Robin and Robert and headed to the exit. He walked directly to King Richard’s tent; Richard had demanded that he would come straight to him after the examination of Robin’s wound to give a full report about Robin of Locksley’s health and recovery.

Robert and Much helped Robin to lean back against the cushions. It was already dark outside, and Much lit the torches in the tent. Robert looked at Robin in anticipation, while Robin stared broodingly into the dancing orange flames of the torches, thinking about the masked Saracen.

“Robin, is the Christian assassin the man whom you once told me about?” Robert inquired.

Robin swallowed hard, then nodded. “Yes, he is Guy of Gisborne.”

“Master, I don’t understand why you were so angry when you saw the masked Saracen. Who is this murderer? Why did you accuse this wretched man of murdering Sir Malcolm? And why does he hate Sir Malcolm?” Questions tumbled from Much’s lips one after another.

Robin reclined back into the cushions. “Much, my father took you to the Locksley Manor several months before the day of the fire.” There was a tremble in his voice. “You are three years older than me, and you remember many events better than I do.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. “If you remember Lady Ghislane of Gisborne, then you should remember her two children – Guy and Isabella.”

Much gave Robin an incredulous look. “Oh, my God! Now I remember the Gisbornes! Roger of Gisborne was banished from Nottingham because he was a leper and was slowly dying. Gisborne used to be a small village near Locksley, but it was included in the Locksley estates after the day of the fire.”

“Exactly,” Robin confirmed.

“Well, this is what I thought.” Robert’s face darkened.

“Master, are you sure that it is Guy of Gisborne?” Much wanted to know.

Robin shook his head angrily. “I recognized Guy of Gisborne at first glance.” His voice was low and cold. “I would have never forgotten the young man whose reckless behavior killed my father.”

“Robin, this damned man hates you,” Robert said briefly.

“Gisborne hates me, and I hate him,” Robin bristled hotly. “I will never forget that it was Guy who started the fire at the Gisborne Manor. He killed my father and his own parents.”

“Gisborne started the fire and killed several people,” Much growled. “He became a murderer on the day of Sir Malcolm's death. In his adulthood, he continued killing people, and now he came to Acre to murder King Richard.” His expression twisted into hatred. “Eventually, Gisborne has become a traitor.”

Robert gave a nod. “This wretched man is a cold-blooded murderer and a traitor.”

“But I also committed many mistakes,” Robin admitted truthfully. “I lied that it wasn’t my arrow that wounded the priest. Guy was almost hanged for an act of my own mischief with arrows.” A pang of guilt stirred in his heart. “I allowed Bailiff Longthorn to banish Isabella and Guy from Locksley after the destruction of the Gisborne Manor by the fire.” He glanced away, sighing deeply.

“What are you talking about, Master?” Much stared at Robin in shock. “You were just a seven-year-old child when Sir Malcolm died. You were shocked and frightened on the day of the fire. And there was nothing you could have done to stop the Bailiff because everyone wanted to banish the Gisbornes from Nottinghamshire – everyone in Locksley and Nottingham.”

“But maybe I could have done something,” Robin contradicted, suddenly looking very weary. He felt dizzy and lightheaded, understanding that the sleeping draught was starting to work. “Indeed, I was scared, and there was chaos in the village.” His voice resembled a lament. “But I also wanted Gisborne out of Locksley and out of my life because I blamed him for the death of my father.”

Robert took Robin’s hand in his and squeezed it. “Robin, look at me.”

Robin turned his gaze at Robert. “What?”

Robert glanced into Robin’s eyes. “Robin, my friend, you did a wrong thing with an arrow, but I agree with Much that it is not your fault that Gisborne was banished from Locksley. Everyone wanted Guy out of the village after he had set the fire and had killed Sir Malcolm. And Gisborne’s father was a leper, and there was a chance that his children could have been infected with a mortal decease as well.”

Robin smirked darkly. “I could have defended Guy and Isabella, but I didn’t want to do that.”

Much shook his head disapprovingly. “Master, you could have done nothing.” He pointed a finger at Robin. “Master, you must never blame yourself for Gisborne’s crimes!”

“I feel guilty not of his regicide attempt, but of my role in his downfall,” Robin acknowledged.

“Robin, stop blaming yourself,” Robert said gently. “You did a bad thing when you denied your guilt of injuring the priest by your arrow, but everyone makes mistakes. And you learnt from your mistakes.”

“I never lied again,” Robin said truthfully.

“I know,” Robert said. “Everything what happened on the day of the fire is Gisborne’s entire fault.”

“I remember young Guy of Gisborne,” Much interjected. “Young Guy often came to Locksley with his mother, Lady Ghislane. I liked Lady Ghislane, but I barely tolerated the sight of Guy.” His expression twisted into obvious loathing. “Guy seemed to be a well-behaved young man, but in reality he was cruel and sadistic.”

Robert arched a brow. “Was Gisborne cruel in his boyhood?”

“Yes,” Robin answered with a nod. “Once I witnessed Guy’s cruelty, and I was scared.” He took a deep breath. “In the warm summer afternoon, three months before the fire, my father and I went on hunting in Sherwood; Much accompanied us.” His voice took a lower octave. “On the edge of the forest, we spotted Guy among the trees. He held a rabbit in his arms, and then he twisted its neck, killing him… for some strange reason.”

The manservant grimaced in disgust. “He did that for pleasure because he was cruel.”

Robin shrugged. “Maybe for entertainment, for it didn’t look like he was hunting in the forest.”

Robert frowned, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well, it seems that Gisborne has always been cruel. If he had been a kind and well-behaved boy before the day of the fire, he would have never killed a rabbit in that way.” His frown deepened. “It has some similarity to killing in cold blood.”

“Yes.” Robin stared into the flames of the flickering torches.

“Whatever he did in childhood, Guy of Gisborne committed an act of high treason,” Robert said uncompromisingly. “He deserves the most brutal punishment – being hanged, drawn, and quartered.”

“Guy of Gisborne is a high traitor.” Robin’s voice was icy chill. “You are right that nothing he had to endure after his banishment from Locksley can justify his regicide attempt on King Richard’s life.”

“I have heard about Gisborne’s fever dreams. The guards talked,” Much said in a hissing tone, looking at Robin. “Master, this man came to the King’s camp to kill both our King and you.”

Robin was quiet for a long time, and nobody dared break an oppressive silence. He felt his body shaking with helpless rage that Guy of Gisborne, the man whom he had blamed for his father’s death, was the King’s would-be assassin. His feelings were beyond anger and rage that Guy of all people had arrived in Acre to assassinate the King and him on the same night. He hated Gisborne with all his heart for the murder of Malcolm of Locksley since the day of the fire, but the revelation that the same man had almost killed the King and him sent him to the verge of his sanity.

“I know that Gisborne hates me,” Robin said sharply, unaccountably angry. He blinked his eyes, trying to get from the clutches of sleep. “He tried to murder the King and me, but I stopped him at the very last instant.” He clenched and unclenched his fists. “And I loathe him more not for trying to kill me but for his attempt on the King’s life.”

Robert saw that Robin was struggling with sleep. “Robin, we will discuss it later. You need to sleep.”

“I’m so tired,” Robin whispered, clutching at Robert’s hand and clinging to it tightly.

“Sleep, Master. You need to rest,” Much said softly.

Robert brushed away the strands of hair from Robin’s forehead. “The more you sleep now, the better you will feel tomorrow, my friend.” His voice was a caressing murmur.

“Yes, I’m falling asleep,” Robin murmured with a dreamy smile.

Robin pressed his hands on his forehead, feeling dizzy, his eyes heavy with sleep. His eyes darted between Robert and Much, and he felt as if he were falling deeper and deeper, into the darkness of the blackest void. He shut his eyes and drew a deep breath. The darkness enveloped him burning away his consciousness, and he could no longer struggle with sleep.

Robert left Robin’s tent, while Much watched his Master with a large smile on his face. Much was happy that Robin’s life was no longer in grave danger. Much feared that Robin’s energetic nature would prevent his master from being attentive to his heath; he was secretly relieved that his master had been given sleeping draught, for Robin needed rest to recover. He also rejoiced in having a chance to sleep himself because he was really tired after nursing feverish and wounded Robin back to life.

ææææææ

Robin awoke next evening, and he knew instantly that something was different, but it took him several moments to identify what the difference was. There was a silence, deep and profound, and as he absorbed that, it was broken by Much’s gentle humming. The spacious tent glowed in the orange light from two burning torches that hung on the two opposite walls.

Robin smiled, thinking that Much’s habit to sing something under his breath would one day make him kill his manservant. Several times, when they had been hiding themselves from their enemies, Much had started singing, and as a result they had been discovered by the Saracens and had had to fight for their lives. But today Robin liked Much’s singing, for it meant that he wasn’t alone and that he was alive.

Robin lay still for a long, long time, listening to Much’s singing. If he didn’t move his body, he didn’t feel pain in his side, and he enjoyed the sensation of comfort and safety a great deal. He lay quiet and relaxed, unaware of the swiftly passing time, his heart beating in a normal rhythm, but his thoughts churning wildly with the visions of his bloody fight with the masked Saracen in the King’s tent.

He tossed his head on the pillow, trying to get rid of the thoughts about Guy of Gisborne at least for a while. He turned his head and saw Much standing near the table in the opposite part of the tent, but he couldn’t understand what his manservant was doing. Gradually, as his eyes focused, he saw more: the table was heavily laden with platters of fish, roast beef, goose, stew, hot scrambled eggs, several sauces, and bowls overflowing with apples, grapes, pears, and strawberries.

“Much, are we going to have a small feast?” Robin asked curiously.

Much stopped humming, and turned around to face his master. There was a wide, pleased smile on his face. “Master, you awoke on time! It is amazing! You will be able to eat so many delicacies now!”

“Where did you take all these things?”

The manservant smiled. “Master, you lost much weight, and now you need good and rich nourishment. In the morning, I took two guards and went to the market in Acre. I bought all this food for you.”

Robin lifted himself in a sitting position on the bed. Much rushed to his master and propped Robin up with some pillows. Robin thanked him and patted Much’s shoulder fondly.

“Thank you, Much.” Robin combed his hair back away from his forehead, brushing the thick sandy strands of hair away from his forehead. “I’m hungry. I would like to eat some goose and strawberry.”

“I will give you everything you want, Master!” Much put several pieces of food on the platter. “At first, you should eat stew and goose. Then I will give you a lot of fruits and eggs.”

“Good.”                                                                        

“Master, how are you now?” Much came to the bed and handed Robin the full platter.

"Much better.” Robin’s face was pale white, and he was very lean, but he really felt stronger and better rested than yesterday when he had just emerged from his slumber.

“Should I fetch the doctor when you finish your dinner?”

A grin spread across Robin’s face, ear-to-ear. “Much, call the physician only if it is time to tend to my wound. I don’t want to listen to his lectures about my smugness.”

Much gave a little gasp of astonishment, then smiled. “As you wish, Master.”

Robin remarked how Much was looking at food; he understood what his loyal and ever-hungry servant was thinking of. “Take food and eat everything what you want, Much.”

Much stared at his master in shock. “But, Master, this is what we bought only for you.”

Robin smiled gently. “I’m not greedy, Much. Take food and eat with me.” He held the platter with food in one hand, and with the other he took a swallow sip from a goblet of wine.

“Thank you.” Much dropped his gaze to the ground, then turned away, embarrassed. Then he smiled and went to the table. He grabbed an empty platter and loaded it with large pieces of stew and goose. Then he sat down in the chair beside the bed, staring at Robin and smiling as he ate.

Robin finished eating goose. “The meal is fabulous and delicious,” he praised.

“I’m so hungry! I’m so happy that we have a great choice of delicacies!” Much smacked his lips, and his stomach rumbled. “God bless King Richard for giving you, Master, all this food!”

It was hard to cook at the war court, and usually soldiers had quite poor daily food rations. During the siege of Acre, the King’s troops had starved and many soldiers had died from hunger and weakness, but the situation had significantly improved after the capture of the city and the achievement of ceasefire with the Saracens. Now the Crusaders didn’t have to fight; they also had decent meal every day.

Much and Robin ate rancorously, enjoying the delicious meal cooked by the King’s personal cook at the Citadel of Acre – the residence of King Richard and the King’s nephew Henry of Jerusalem, Count de Champagne, in Acre. Much was jealous that Robin liked French cuisine so much, for usually he cooked for his master, but, of course, he enjoyed moments when he had to do fewer things as a servant.

“Master, are we going home after your recovery?” Much’s heart hammered harder.

“No, no.” Robin shook his head in denial. His eyes were darkened with sadness. “The King didn’t send me home, and I suppose that I will continue serving him as soon as I recover.”

A shadow of mingled incomprehension and worry drifted over Much. “Master, you nearly died saving the King’s life. You cannot lead the Private Guard right now.”

Robin placed an empty platter on his lap. “The Saracen attack didn’t ruin ceasefire, and we don’t have to fight now. The King isn’t going to march to the south in the next several weeks, so that I have enough time to recover.”

Much took the platter from Robin’s lap. He came to the table and took a bowl of fruits, then returned to Robin. “Take it, please. There are strawberries among the fruits.”

Robin smiled with a satisfied smile. “Thank you.” He placed a strawberry into his mouth.

“You have to eat. You are lean and need to gain more weight.And some fruit will revive your spirits.”

“I will be alright soon,” Robin allayed.

Much’s face darkened. “And the masked Saracen…”

“Yes, there is the deal of the masked Saracen. Guy of Gisborne tried to kill King Richard,” Robin said with anger, rising in his voice. “Gisborne is the King’s subject. Does it tell you something, Much?”

Much blinked his eyes. “Englishman traveled to Acre and wanted to murder the King.”

“Exactly.”

“What do you think about that, Master?”

“Gisborne,” Robin said the name as if it were a poison. “He was sent by someone from the Angevin Empire or England, and this person wants our liege dead. There is a conspiracy against the King in England.” He shot me a look of anger. “Our own countrymen want to kill the King.”

Much was confused. “Then it means that… some nobles want our King dead.”

“It is worse,” Robin said, his tone low and sad, as if he had just buried the dead, for his voice sounded morbid and deadly. “I think Prince John conspired to overthrow King Richard in his absence and sent his own assassin to Acre. The King’s death is the Holy Land is in Prince John’s interests.”

“Oh my God,” Much said, almost quietly. “You are right.”

Robin sighed. “And it means that we don’t know what we will see home and what happened there in our absence.”Another more unpleasant aspect struck him. “And if Prince John hired Gisborne, it means that there are other conspirators against the King. We need to think how to act.”

“Well, it looks that we are staying in Acre,” Much said sadly.

“Precisely,” Robin confirmed. “I feel much better, and I’m going to interrogate Gisborne in several days.” His chest heaved with apprehension. “And then we will see what to do.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Choice for Salvation**

During the next several days, Robin spent all his time in the bed, reading several books, including Holy Koran, which he had in possession for quite some time. His friends often visited him, but they stayed only for a brief time and then left. By the end of the week, Robin felt much better and stronger. He was no longer ghostly pale, but he was not in a good physical shape and needed more time to recover.

Much served Robin magnificent breakfasts, dinners, and suppers. In those days, small feasts took place every day, and the meal was delivered to the Crusaders’ camp every day for King Richard, Robin, and other high-ranked generals. Much also regularly went to the market in Acre, buying fruits for Robin and some ingredients for cooking Robin’s favorite meal.

Robin wasn’t accustomed to being served a breakfast of two courses and a dinner of three courses. He felt as if he were a spoiled nobleman who lived in a fairy-tale but surrounded by bloodshed and death. He contemplated the changes in the lives of the Crusaders with grave amusement: they starved during the long and bloody siege of Acre, and many soldiers died from hunger, weakness, and sickness, but now everything changed and supply provision was regularly delivered to the port of Acre from Cyprus and other countries of Christendom.

He learnt that he was named Hero of Acre after he had thwarted the Saracen attack on the King’s life, and his popularity in the Holy Land skyrocketed. Robin of Locksley was cherished and loved, adored and envied. King Richard himself spoiled his grand favorite, allowing him to have great food in abundance which very few other men were given. Yet, Robin felt uncomfortable that he was granted so many privileges as compared to other Crusaders. He had a sickening feeling that he didn’t deserve to be at the height of his fame because he didn’t believe in the holy cause and because the Saracen attack, which made him Hero of Acre, might have been organized by Prince John.

Robin lay with his head propped on two pillows, a book resting on his chest as he was again reading Holy Koran. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the opened flap of the tent above his head. He was dressed in flat green silk trousers and a green silk tunic, which were one of the very few old things which he kept since his arrival in the Holy Land.

Much poured something from a jug into a plain cup. “Master Robin, you have to drink this.”

Robin lifted his eyes from the book and stared at Much. “What is it? Again a tonic?”

“Yes. This is a special tonic for your recuperation.” Much approached the bed.

Robin took the cup and slowly drank the liquid. “At least, its taste is not as bad as that of painkilling herbs.”

“You need it. It will accelerate your recovery.”

“I know, Much. That’s why I drink it, though I hate it.”

Late afternoon sunlight flooded the tent as the flap of the tent on the front moved, and King Richard appeared at the entrance, his eyes taking in Robin’s figure on the bed. Much sank to his knees, and Robin bowed his head, but Richard laughed and dismissed them from formalities.

“Much, leave us with Robin alone,” the King said in a gentle tone.

“Of course, sire,” Much obeyed, bowing his head deeply in respect to their liege before turning around and heading to the exit from the tent.

As Much disappeared from the tent, Robin began to climb out of the bed, but Richard signaled him to stop. The lion seated himself into a high-back chair near Robin’s bed.

“How are you, Robin?” the King asked, his eyes surveying his Captain with concern.

Robin smiled brightly. “I feel much better, my liege. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m glad that your health is improving.” Richard dropped royal etiquette in privacy with Robin.

The King was holding a parchment in his hand, and it interested Robin. “Did something happen, sire?” He closed the book, his gaze fixing in the lion’s face.

“The Sultan’s pigeon has just delivered this message.” Richard handed the parchment to Robin. “I sent the pigeon to William de Longchamp while you were feverish; I informed him that he captured a Christian assassin in the camp.” He sighed. “I also sent Roger of Stoke and Aubrey de Vere to England and Aquitaine, and they are now on their way there.”

Robin’s heart thundered in his chest. “And do we have any news?”

“De Longchamp sent to me a detailed report, but the news is disturbing.”

“Oh,” Robin breathed.

“Read it, Robin.”

Robin looked through the parchment. It was the last secret message from William de Longchamp, who managed King Richard’s expansive network of spies and who had fled England in disguise after his authority had been challenged by Prince John and his loyal supporters. As the King used pigeons for quick exchange of messages, he was in regular contact with de Longchamp.

Robin’s eyes widened. De Longchamp reported that Prince John had plotted against Richard and had planned to assassinate the King. There was information leakage among the Prince’s supporters, and de Longchamp had learnt that Nottingham had become the center of conspiracy against the King. Prince John had formed the secret organization of the so-called Black Knights with the intention to kill Richard and replace him with John. De Longchamp asserted that Sheriff Peter Vaisey of Nottingham headed the Black Knights, and every member wore a special ring with the Sheriff's insignia.

Robin tore his eyes from the parchment and gazed at the lion. “I have already figured out that Prince John is behind the attempt on your life, milord.” His blue eyes flashed with dark flame of anger. “As soon as I realized that the masked Saracen is Guy of Gisborne, your subject and vassal, it became clear that Prince John sent an assassin to Acre.”

“Is it the man who started the fire that consumed your father, Robin?”

“It is him,” Robin confirmed with a deep sigh.

Richard Plantagenet had been Robin’s legal guardian since the day of Malcolm’s death, although Robin had been raised by Sir Edward of Knighton in his everyday life. Robin had lived mostly in Nottingham, but from time to time Richard had invited his young ward to the royal court in Poitiers. Robin had participated in the knighthood training under the leadership of Lord Walter Sheridan in Aquitaine.

Richard had quickly developed a deep affection for Robin. He had discovered in Robin an interesting personality and had enjoyed their interactions. Robin became not only Richard’s ward, but also his friend, protégé, friend, entrusted person, and one of his best generals. Amusingly, Richard was one of few people who understood Robin very well: the young lord talked to his liege about his troubles, concerns, and fears in their long, private conversations, about the things he would have never shared with anyone else, including the tale of Guy’s role in Sir Malcolm’s death. Robin was called the King’s favorite and his confident, but Richard could have been called Robin’s confident as well.

The King stiffened, his gaze turning hard. “Do you know what Gisborne said about you in fever?”

Robin nodded. “I know.”

“Guy of Gisborne hates you and wants you dead,” the King snapped, a veil of black fury wrapping his heart. “He tried to kill both of us on the day of the attack.”

“He won’t kill you and me because he was captured.”

“But he almost killed us,” the lion added emphatically. “I was unscratched on that night only thanks to your interference, Robin. And you are alive only by the grace of God.”

Robin smiled. “We both are alive.”

The King eyed Robin, his face devoid of emotions. “I suppose you are going to interrogate Gisborne.”

“I intended to do that today, if you don’t mind, sire.”

“Of course, you may do that.”

Robin looked thoughtful. “The question is what to do with Gisborne.”

The lion raised a quizzical brow. “He attempted regicide and was captured. His sentence is death.”

“I don’t deny that Gisborne’s crimes are grave,” Robin agreed, folding his hands over his chest. “But the conspiracy against you, sire, is very sophisticated.” He emitted a heavy sigh before he resumed speaking. “It would be good if we had a spy among the Black Knights.”

The King was amused. “Robin, do you want to keep Gisborne alive?”

“I believe that Gisborne may agree to cooperate. If he switches sides and helps us to deal with the Black Knights and if he repents of his crimes, he may be very useful for us.”

“Perhaps, you are right.”

“Sire, I hate to offer that, but we don’t know who all the participants of the conspiracy are. We need to have someone to spy for us on the Black Knights.”

Richard tapped his chin. “It sounds practical.” His lips curved in a smile that didn’t touch his face. “We only know that Vaisey of Nottingham is the head of the Black Knights club.” He smiled. “My brother’s minions – the Earl of Buckingham, the Earl of Durham, and the Earl of Spenser – are very likely to be among the conspirators.”

“Sire, I hate thinking of that, but I believe that there are traitors in the Private Guard who are spying on us,” Robin opined, his blood boiling in rage. “The attack was undetected, and it looks like we were betrayed. I’m sure that some of the guards were bought by the Black Knights.”

For an instant, Richard’s expression was grave before turning blank. “I agree.” He had already had an idea who had betrayed him, but so far he didn’t intend to tell Robin about that.

ææææææ

For a while, King Richard and Robin said in a gloomy and awkward silence, watching each other.

“Sire, if you don’t mind, I want to do something today,” Robin began cautiously.

Richard could easily guess that Robin was going to talk about sparing Guy of Gisborne; he could read Robin’s mind very well. “Go on, Robin,” he encouraged his most loyal subject to speak.

“I mean Gisborne,” Robin continued. “Perhaps, we should offer him your pardon in exchange for information and for his help to destroy the Black Knights.” He grimaced. “I hate this idea, but it seems that it is our only option to get inside Prince John’s inner circle.”

The King’s heart sank into his throat, but his eyes were impenetrable. “Robin, do you understand that Gisborne hates you and that he will kill you if he has a chance?” His gaze turned more intensive. “He stabbed you from the back and ran to my tent. He will backstab you again if he is given a chance.”

Robin leaned his head against the pillow, thinking of Guy’s future and of the regicide attempt. “I understand all the risks, but we need to learn everything about Prince John’s plans to usurp power and kill you,” he said in a tight voice. “Gisborne is imprisoned and cornered, but he doesn’t want to die. And we need him to make your life safer, milord.”

“So you want to keep Guy of Gisborne alive and sway him to our side to prevent new assassination attempts on my life and ensure my safety?”

Robin shook his head. “Yes, though I distaste this idea.”

The lion regarded him shrewdly. “Maybe there is something else?”

Robin paled under the King’s piercing gaze. Richard knew him too well and could swiftly understand when Robin lied or didn’t voice his true thoughts. “I want to make up for my unfair treatment of Guy and his sister,” he acknowledged. “I should have defended them on the day of the fire.”

“Old drill, Robin? I have already heard that.”

"Yes, indeed.”

Richard gave Robin an amused look, then sighed. “You are not guilty. You were a seven-year-old child, while Gisborne was a fifteen-year-old young man. He started the fire due to his stupidity and recklessness, and he paid for that.” He took a whizzing breath. “Roger of Gisborne shouldn’t have come to the village because he was infected with leprosy.” He raised his voice. “It is only the fault of the Gisbornes.”

Robin looked at the King nervously. “But I wronged Guy and his sister Isabella when I let the Bailiff banish them from Locksley. I should have found them later, but I even didn’t try.”

“Stop blaming yourself for nothing. Don’t waste your time on trifles.”

“Sire, may I offer such a deal to Gisborne?”

Richard stared fixedly into the emptiness, no doubt arranging his opinion in his mind. “Permission is granted,” he stated at last, with a stiff nod.

“Thank you, milord.”

“Robin, you must stay in a bed as long as you can for your recovery.”

Robin frowned. “Sire, I can–”

The King interrupted him. “We have ceasefire, and you don’t have to fight. You are not in top shape right now. You are healthy and in the prime of life, but you need to rest and get your strength back.”

“Yes,” Robin agreed reluctantly.

Richard sighed, his mind drifting off to the night of Saracen attack. “The Saracen attack was one of the most dramatic events on the Crusade.”

“Really?” Robin arched a brow.

“It is always a dramatic event when the wounded Captain of the Private Guard saves his King’s life,” the King stated in a voice tight with emotion. “Robin, you ran to my tent, wounded and bleeding, and saved my life from the Christian murderer. You were fighting for my life when your own life was fading away." He smiled at the younger man fondly. “You are my friend, Robin. Always remember that."

Robin smiled cordially. "I treasure our friendship, sire. I will always be by your side."

"I know, friend," Richard replied with conviction. He rose to his feet. “Take care of yourself.”

Smiling at Robin, the King turned around and walked to the exit. Robin didn’t see a cunning smile on Richard’s face as he left the tent. The King had his own plan, but Robin didn’t need to know about that.

Robin heard Much humming one of the King’s favorite songs under his breath, and he giggled, thinking that Much would never change. In childhood, Much had always hummed something, at times so loud that Robin had heard his songs from the master bedroom at the Locksley Manor while Much had slept in the servants’ quarters. Much’s singing and ranting irritated many of Robin’s comrades, but Robin only smiled, rarely reprimanding his loyal manservant in public. Much’s love for singing was as well known among the King’s men as Robin’s dryly humorous nature and his passion to always have fun.

Robin smiled brightly. He loved Much and was grateful to him for his service in the Holy Land. If Much hadn't joined him on the Crusade, he would have already been dead a long time ago. They were brothers-in-arms and worked as a team on the battlefield: Much usually protected Robin from the back and was ready to kill any enemy who could harm Robin. Robin knew that he owed a tremendous debt of gratitude to Much for his utter devotion and his unconditional loyalty to him.

There was something that Robin wanted to do a long time ago. “Much, there is something I need to speak with you about,” he declared.

Much went silent, then stared at Robin. “What is that, Master?”

“I have a surprise for you, my friend.” Robin grinned widely, his eyes brightened. “We have known each other for a long time, haven’t we?”

A look of worry crossed Much's face, but it was replaced with bewilderment. “Well, yes, Master.”

Robin sighed. “By the end of this month, it will be over nineteen years. You have been loyal to me, more loyal than I deserved. I have always trusted you and counted on you completely.” He gave a small smile. “You have my thanks for everything you have done for me.”

Much blinked in amazement. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Much, I’m releasing you from my servitude,” Robin continued, feeling relieved that he had said that. “You are no longer my manservant, and I’m going to hire another squire.”

Much blanched. “You no longer need my services?”

“Yes. I’m making you a free man.”

“Master, you say that I’m loyal and you are grateful, but… you want to dismiss me.” Much gasped, fighting for breath. “What did I do wrong? Did I disappoint you?”

“Much, it is not what you think.”

Much observed the younger man curiously, as if wondering at the audacity of the speech he wanted to deliver. “It is easy for you to get rid of me. I know that I annoy you, and now you are bored.” He stretched his arms towards Robin, his finger pointed at Robin. “And why do I need my freedom if I’m left with nothing? I have no home and no family, nothing at all. I had only you.”

Robin was embarrassed that his speech had misled his manservant. A flush of pink came into his pale cheeks, and the rims of his ears darkened with a rush of blood. Looking at Much, he felt that the older man wanted nothing more but to tear him apart with his bare hands for his words; he knew that behind abashment and shock on Much’s face there were anger, betrayal, and hurt.

“Much, you are my friend, not my servant,” Robin underscored. “We grew up together and mourned the loss of my father together.” He let out a heavy sigh. “We both lived through horrors of the war together and spilled… much Saracen blood. We saved each other’s lives.” He managed a smile. “Do you really think that I will leave you with nothing?”

After a moment of silence, Much said, “You said that you don’t want me to serve you any longer.”

“You are no longer my servant because I’m going to grant you the lodge of Bonchurch, and the surrounding lands. I will ask the King to officially make you the Lord of Bonchurch.”

Much opened his mouth so widely that it was like a gaping hole. “Master, you are a nobleman by birth, but I don’t know how to be a lord. I wasn’t raised to be a lord.”

Robin laughed at Much’s frightened expression. “Much, you do deserve this surprise. It is just a small token of gratitude that I can offer you for your loyalty and devotion.”

Much smiled as the reality sank in: Robin didn’t want him out of his life, but only wished to elevate his status and he liked that. “Right then, if you wish, Master.” He smiled. “I’m very grateful, but I really don’t need Bonchurch. I just want to stay with you.”

“I know that you need nothing from me, but I want to take care of you after our return to England. You served me too well and I should have rewarded you a long time ago.”

For a while, Robin and Much didn’t speak. They just watched each other, Robin grinning sheepishly and Much smiling gratefully at his former master. Robin was happy that Much had accepted his gift, but Much didn’t need wealth and status. All Much needed was to be close to Robin and take care of his master who was everything to him: Robin’s life and happiness were more precious to Much than the crown of England and any amount of wealth, than anything else in the world.

Much’s cheeks went crimson. “Oh, Master…” He smiled gratefully.

“Don’t call me your master anymore,” Robin requested. “I’m Robin for you.”

“Of course, Master… Robin…” Much stammered. But he just couldn’t stop calling Robin his master.

“Robin,” the sandy-haired man amended with a wide smile.

Suddenly, a dark shadow crossed Much’s face. “So… we are not going home?”

“Much, I made you a free man, and I’m not going to use you as my servant anymore. The King will make my wish official, and then you can be free and go back to England.”

“What about you, Master?”

“Robin,” the correction followed.

“Robin,” Much echoed.

“I’m not going to England so far. I don’t think that the King will let me leave now.”

“Then I’m also staying with you.”

“Much, you may return to England.”

“You know that I will never leave you here alone.”

Robin gave Much a warm smile. “In this case, I will make you a guard, but not my squire.”

“But I will always take care of you,” Much assured him. “I will do it better than anyone else can do it.”

“I want you by my side, but as a friend.”

Much smiled widely. “I will always be with you. I’m yours, Robin.”

Robin chuckled. “And I’m yours, my friend.”

ææææææ

After Robin had ordered to stop the beating of the masked Saracen, Guy had been dragged by the guards to his dark, damp cell. He had been thrown on a straw mattress; he couldn’t have rested on his wounded back as his body still was a mass of bruises and cuts. He cursed the Crusaders for beating and humiliating him. He had never been humiliated as much as he had been by being flogged and obliged to listen to nasty laugher of the King’s men about him, the masked Saracen.

Doctor Matthew Béliveau was summoned to Guy’s cell by Legrand at Robin’s request. The physician tended to the wounds on Guy’s back, cleaning them with salt water and bandaging them. Although the welts on the back caused Guy much pain, the doctor wasn’t allowed to give the prisoner any painkilling medicine; Guy had to tolerate terrible pain for several days. Luckily, he didn’t contract high fever like it had happened to him when Robin had stabbed him twice in the fight in the King’s tent.

During the next days, nobody visited Guy, and only some food was given to him – some bread, a bowl of poultry sup, and water, which he drank in gigantic amounts. When Guy demanded to give him better food, the guards punched him in his face and informed him that he was given a bowl of soup only because Captain Locksley had ordered to keep him alive and well fed. Legrand said to Guy that he would have flogged him again with fierce brutality if Robin hadn’t instructed them to stop torturing him.

Guy had relatively bearable conditions of his imprisonment only thanks to Robin of Locksley, and it injured his pride. He didn’t want to be obliged to his sworn enemy, whom he hated so much. Yet, he remembered his conversation with Vaisey’s spy, who assured him that Robin would help him get the King’s pardon if he had agreed to cooperate. But the mere thought that he had to humiliate himself and beg Robin for his life sent him to the pits of hell; yet, Guy wanted to live.

Since he had been imprisoned, Guy was in hell, physically hurting from the recent torture and plagued by the nightmares about the fire at the Gisborne Manor. If he closed his eyes, he could see Robin’s blue eyes, the color of which he hated throughout his whole life. He could almost imagine the horrific sights of the hellfire, in which sinners were burning, and could hear their pleas to God for mercy.

He hated being imprisoned. The lack of fresh air and the stench threatened to suffocate him. Guy heard that Robin had prohibited everyone to interrogate the masked Saracen, and he expected Robin to come to him soon. The absolute stillness increased the acuteness of his hearing, and he moved at the slightest sound, his heart beating in anticipation that the door would open and Robin would enter the dungeon. Besides, there were always two guards inside his cell trusted by Legrand and the King; they watched the masked Saracen with utmost scrupulosity and wrote down what Guy did or said.

Waiting for his childhood nemesis, Guy was turning more and more anxious. Days were passing, but Robin didn’t visit him yet. He guessed that around one month had already passed since the fateful raid, and if he had escaped from the camp and sailed from Acre, he would have been able to disembark in Marseilles by now. He wondered what Vaisey would do when he got news about Guy’s capture in Acre or what the Sheriff would think when Guy didn’t return to Nottingham in a due time. Prince John and the Black Knights and Prince would surely wonder what had happened to Guy not because they were worried about his fate but because he knew the grave secret about their plans to kill the King.

Guy lay on a straw mattress; his eyes were shut tightly, his breathing steady. Then he heard the creak of the heavy iron door, and the sound made him shudder in horror. He heard footsteps of the two people, thinking that the guards came to change for the night. Yet, the two men, who had guarded him in the afternoon, walked out of the cell, their footsteps echoing in the corridor.

What terrified Guy next moment was that someone stopped on the threshold of his cell. Then he was suddenly blinded by the flames of the torch. He raised his hand protectively before his eyes. “Who is here?” Guy’s heart thundered in his chest.

“How are you doing, Gisborne?” Robin’s cold voice coursed through the air.

Guy shuddered in horror, thinking that the minute he had dreaded for so long had finally come. He took his hand from his eyes and saw Robin in the light of the torch. Robin was definitely thinner and paler than on the night of the attack, and Guy’s heart pounded harder in delight that his enemy had been affected so much by his injury. Legrand stood at Robin’s right hand, holding the torch in his arm.

“Did you come to gloat, Locksley?” Guy growled.

Robin’s eyes narrowed at the prisoner with a sudden predatory intensity. “I think my visit will improve your low spirits, Gisborne. You should rejoice that you have a chance to see me alive – to see that you failed to take the King’s life and my life as well.”

“Yes, I failed,” Guy acknowledged.

Robin laughed. “Aren’t you happy that I’m alive, Gisborne? After all, we have known each other for many years and we are old _friends_ ,” he said sarcastically.

Guy wanted to scream in rage. He wanted to punch his tormentor and kick him until his bones were like wax and his flesh like water, until he screamed for forgiveness for the wrongs he had done to the Gisborne siblings so many years ago. But he couldn’t attack Robin – his legs and wrists were shackled, and the metallic chain tied him to the wall. Besides, he lay on the stomach and could see Robin only because his mattress faced the door.

“Go to hell, Locksley,” Guy said between clenched teeth.

Robin guessed from Guy’s expression that the other man was infuriated with Robin’s appearance. “It is surely better to see my charming persona than to be alone in your cell, only with the guards.”

Legrand croaked with laugher. “Robin, you are not only charming, but also precious for us.”

Robin grinned smugly. “Legrand, my friend, don’t exaggerate.”

“What do you want, Locksley?” Guy barely repressed his moan as the burning pain in his back slashed through him when he tried to move his body. “It is too late to interrogate me. Shouldn’t you be in your comfortable tent and sleep, whimpering in pain from the wound in your side?”

“Robin, I will beat him now,” Legrand hissed. “This worm will pay! He will pay!”

Robin placed a hand on Legrand’s shoulder. “Calm down, my friend. I don’t care what he says.” His eyes locked with Guy’s, and he flashed a brilliant, haughty smile. “Gisborne, you are in no position to quarrel with me. It is not a wise strategy.”

“What do you want, Locksley?” Guy repeated his question.

Robin narrowed his eyes. “Gisborne, you attempted regicide, and it is a heinous crime. Do you know that I can have you hanged, drawn, and quartered tomorrow? I can order your death even now.”

Guy let out a laugh. “The King needs me.”

His mouth forming a sudden "oh" of unhidden amazement, Robin gasped for air; he was shocked with Guy’s audacity. Legrand was seething with anger, but Robin’s hand restrained him from moving towards the assassin and beating him. Legrand didn’t know about that, but he also found himself hardly able to restrain his fist from descending upon the head of the shameless traitor before him.

“I can have you executed even now, and King Richard won’t be angry with me.” Robin gave Guy a smile that was sheer fury and pure challenge as well. “I know your name, and I know that you are King Richard’s subject. It is enough to make right assumptions about the person who hired you.”

Gisborne paled, understanding that Robin had already understood Prince John had been behind the regicide attempt. “If you plan to execute me, then do it tomorrow. The sooner, the better.”

“I think that you don’t want to die, Gisborne,” Robin assumed. “And I can help you.”

Guy thought that he had misheard him. “What?”

“I will help you, but only on one condition,” Robin promulgated. “I will spare your life only if you tell me everything you know about the regicide attempt. You must disclose the names of all your conspirators and the details of your plan to kill the King.”

A faint sickness of awe made Guy feel weak. “You are lying,” he muttered.

“I’m not lying,” Robin contradicted.

Guy didn’t believe Robin. “You hate me. You cannot wish to help me.”

“I know that you hate me very much, Gisborne. It is the reason why you tried to kill me on the night of the raid.” Robin advanced forward and stopped next to Guy. “You have hated me since childhood.”

“I hate you because you ruined my life!” Gisborne shouted. “You stole the Gisborne lands from my sister and me! You are a thief and a liar!”

“Your father was dispossessed because he was a leper – it was not my decision,” Robin parried in a cold voice. “And I never lied since the case with an arrow when I… wronged you.”

Guy’s expression turned into bewilderment. “Are you admitting your mistakes, Locksley?”

“I’m bored with this conversation,” Robin said dismissively. “I gave you a choice, Gisborne. You can cooperate with me and tell me everything about the conspiracy, and then I will spare your miserable life.” His voice sounded not hateful, but weary. “If you don’t cooperate, I will order your execution.”

Guy felt his heart beating faster. “How much time do I have to make up my mind?”

“I will come here in five days, when you and I feel better,” Robin answered, his lips quirking in a slight smile. “Now I have to leave. Have sweet dreams, my dear masked Saracen.”

Robin knew that he would probably regret in the morning that he had given Guy a choice to switch sides, but at present he was glad of the rest, glad of the attempt to make up for the wrongs he had caused to Guy in childhood. Maybe he was a sentimental man who couldn’t just execute a man whom he had known since childhood. Maybe his whole speech to Guy about getting royal pardon was a mistake from first to last, but the voice in the back of his head told him that he did a right thing tonight. But at least Gisborne’s comic expression of amazement and shock when Robin offered the man a chance for salvation was worth of visiting the dungeons, Robin mused.

Robin and Legrand turned around and went out of the cell. Two new guards entered and took their posts, sniggering at Guy. Guy heard the sound of the door closing and the receding footsteps in the corridor. Guy shut his eyes, a wealth of emotions coursing through him – amazement that Robin had offered him a chance to survive and hope that he wouldn’t be executed as a high traitor.

Outside of the prison, the King’s page stopped Legrand and informed that King Richard had summoned him to his tent. Smiling at his friend and comrade, Robin clapped Legrand on his shoulder and walked to his own tent where Much was impatiently waiting for his return. Legrand headed to the royal tent.

The guards near the King’s tent bowed to Legrand and stepped aside, letting him enter. Legrand stepped into the tent and saw his liege sitting in a high-back armchair at the table with maps and parchments in the opposite part of the tent. The King had been obviously studying the maps, perhaps the route to reach Jerusalem from Acre in case a new march to the south, before Legrand came. Legrand stood quiet for a minute, waiting for the King to acknowledge his presence.

King Richard glanced from parchments to Legrand and back again. “Legrand, I waited for you. You and I need to do something of vital importance,” he began in a personal but somewhat distant voice. The conversation would be too private, and he didn’t need to stick to formalities and lose time.

“My liege,” Legrand greeted, bowing his head in respect. He was stunned that the King spoke to him without a usual royal etiquette: he was close to his liege and was considered a royal favorite, but the King usually was more formal in his presence.

The King lifted his gaze at his favorite. “Did Robin finish the interrogation of the masked Saracen?”

Legrand nodded. “Yes, milord.”

“Very well, then,” the King said neutrally. “We are going to have an important conversation.”

“I’m always at your disposal, sire.”

Richard made a mark on the parchment; then he turned his gaze at the blonde Norman knight. “Legrand, you and Robin are friends. Do you love Robin? Do you want all the best for him?”

Legrand looked amazed before his expression regained its neutrality. “I have known Robin for many years. I love him dearly as a friend, almost as a brother.”

“Robin is a kind-hearted and honest man, and his humanity is both his weakness and his strength,” Richard said rhetorically. “But one day this humanity may kill him.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Legrand said quietly.

The lion gave Legrand a paternal smile. “You and I love Robin very much.” He sighed. “I’m so happy that Robin is alive. I prayed for his recovery every day.”

“And so did I.”

“Legrand, we are going to help Robin by protecting him.”

“I’m ready to do everything for Robin,” Legrand pledged.

The King smiled enigmatically. “Invite Sir James of Kent to my tent. Then hide yourself behind the curtains in the corner of the tent and listen to our conversation.” He let out a short laugh. “You will find our little chat quite interesting and entertaining.”

Legrand shook his head, confused. “I will do exactly as you command, sire.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**The King’s Deceit**

Sir James of Kent felt uneasy as he entered the King’s tent. He didn’t understand why the King needed him so urgently when he was busy with the training of the newly recruited guards in the Private Guard. Something was wrong, and James feared that his liege had somehow learnt about his betrayal.

James paused at the entrance to the tent, looking at King Richard who sat in a well carved high-back chair at the table with war maps. The King heard his visitor’s footsteps, but he didn’t acknowledge James’ presence for a long time. Instead, the King busied himself with studying the maps, and James knew that he was supposed to wait for his liege to start the conversation. Such a long, tense silence could mean only the King’s displeasure or could have implied the seriousness of the situation.

James cleared his throat. “My liege, I came here at your request,” he began, bowing to the King.

“Sir James of Kent,” Richard said officially. He didn’t raise his eyes from his maps and parchments.

James kept his head bowed. “I’m at your disposal.”

The King made a note with an eagle-feathered quill; then he laughed bitterly. “Always at our disposal?”

“Yes, milord.” James didn’t like sarcastic notes he heard in the King’s voice.

Richard lifted his eyes and stared at James. “James, you have been serving as the second-in-command to the Captain of the Private Guard for four years,” he said in a steady, cold voice. His expression was impenetrable, his gaze blank. “We have always trusted you. We have been friends for many years.”

James felt his blood run cold in his veins; he didn’t understand why the King spoke to him in this manner. “I treasure our friendship, sire.” He bowed his head in respect, uneasy and solemn.

“Take a seat there.” Richard pointed at one of the high-back chairs in the opposite side of the tent.

James took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing himself to stay calm. “Thank you, milord.” He seated himself in the chair, feeling his knees shake under him.

King Richard rose to his feet and came to the table where a jeweled decanter of elite red wine stood. He filled two silver goblets with wine and walked to James, then handed him the goblet.

Richard seated himself comfortably into the chair into the opposite part of the tent. “Drink some wine, James.” He sipped wine from his goblet, watching the other man from the corner of his eye.

“Good wine.” James took a small sip of wine.

Richard laughed. “We bet our brother John can offer you a better wine, though we believe that John can drink even water from the Thames and be fine with that.”

James almost chocked with wine. With shaking hands, he slammed a half-empty goblet on the table; then he gazed at his liege, a feeling of bad foreboding nesting in his heart. “Milord, you have always had excellent taste in wines. I have never tried anything better than wines from your private collection.” He managed a smile. “Yeah, only you have such a great taste in wines.”

The King burst into a loud laughter. “Flattery doesn’t always make friends, James.”

James stared at the King with wide eyes, embarrassed and frightened at the same time. “My liege, I’m sorry if I somehow displeased you. Please believe me that it has never been my intention.”

“James, we know the truth,” the King said in a chilly tone, his gaze fixed at James’ face. “We know that you betrayed us and conspired with our brother John to kill us. We know about the Black Knights.” He smiled. “You of all the men in the Private Guard should be able to predict that our spies have already learnt much about the plot.”

James gasped for breath, his face horrified. “Sire, I… I…”

Richard laughed contemptuously. “James, don’t deny the fact of your treason.” He took a goblet of wine and sipped a little. “Or did you consider your King foolish enough not to understand that there is a traitor in the Private Guard – a man who made the Saracen attack undetected?”

“No, no, no,” James muttered to himself; mortal dread filled his entire being.

Richard gave James of Kent a long, searching look, trying to understand what was going on in the head of another man. He didn’t see a trace of repentance or remorse. He sighed heavily, thinking what to do with the man whom he loved and who deeply disappointed him. And then the lion made up his mind.

“We are even not interested in the motives of your betrayal,” Richard continued coldly, a small smile playing in the corners of his lips. “We have the realm full of traitors who would run to our brother and betray our trust if only they are offered an earldom, lands, or an appointment on a profitable position.”

“Sire, I have to explain to you what happened. It was–” James broke off, looking like a frightened child. He dragged a deep breath, mastering his courage to continue. “It was a matter of–”

Richard interrupted him. “We are not interested in your explanations,” he said rudely. “We know why you did that, but it is not a matter for discussion. We have some other… interesting deals for today.”

“Milord, I will cooperate.” James jumped to his feet and took a step forward, closer to the King. Then he sank to his knees, his head bowed. “I will do everything for you.”

Richard raised his chin, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Stand up, James. Your theatrics make us more disappointed in you.” He took a goblet of wine and emptied it in one gulp.

James obediently rose to his feet. “I will do everything… to serve you well and earn your trust again.”

“If trust is lost, it is lost forever,” the King said flatly, a note of regret creeping into his voice. “We could have been assassinated because of you. If Robin hadn’t interfered on time, we would have been already dead.” He sighed again. “Your treason could have killed your King and England.”

James hung his head. “I’m… sorry. I’m so sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“No, you are not sorry, James. You don’t care for us.” The lion shook his head in disbelief at the audacity of his treacherous subject. “Have at least some shame not to lie into our face.”

James looked into the King’s face. “I have nothing to say to defend myself.”

Anger with the traitor coiling in his stomach, Richard started laughing halfheartedly. “At least, you have some conscience left not to deny your guilt when you stand before your King.” He let out a scornful chuckle. “And you surely would do everything to save yourself?”

James shut his eyes, then swallowed hard. “I will do everything to redeem myself.”

“Very good,” the King retorted. His face lit up in a mysterious smile. “We offer you a full pardon, but only if you do something for us; something specific and confidential.”

James shook his head in confusion. “What do I have to do, sire?”

A leadening silence hung over them. The King watched James with an enigmatic smile on his face, his gaze ever-penetrating and dark. He didn’t speak for a long moment, wishing to unnerve James, enjoying the discomfort the traitor was experiencing. James deserved to die for his treason and he would get his comeuppance soon, but so far Richard needed him.

Richard turned his head away and stared into the flickering flames of several torches. “You must tell us everything about the Black Knights. We need to know the names of all the people who conspired to kill their King. We need to know what our brother is planning.” He lowered his head and stared at his right hand, his eyes fixing at the signet ring – a symbol of his kingly power. “And then you will have to do something not for your King and not for England, but for your Captain.”

“I will do exactly what you wish, sire.”     

The King swung his gaze at James. “We know.”

“What can I do for Robin?” James’ voice was shaking.

“Yes, for Robin.” A tender smile appeared on the King’s face at the thought of his young Captain. “It is something very important, and nobody should know what you will do.”

“As you wish, sire,” James answered automatically.

“Robin means a lot to me.” The King’s voice was soft, almost caressing as he spoke about his young friend; he dropped royal etiquette in this minute of privacy. “I do love Robin as much as I would have loved my close relative. He is not only my subject and the Captain of the Private Guard, but also my close friend. And I will do everything to protect Robin from any potential harm.”

James nodded wordlessly. Everyone knew how much King Richard loved Robin of Locksley, and James wasn’t astounded that his liege wanted to protect his Captain. “I love Robin. I have always admired him,” he stated sincerely. “I didn’t want Robin to be so badly injured in the attack.”

King Richard let out a small smile that quickly vanished, and hard lines formed near his mouth. “You didn’t want Robin to die, but you wanted your King dead.” He trailed off, contemplating the traitor in a silence for a while. “You can say whatever you want, James, but your treachery almost killed your King and Robin, and I cannot easily forgive you for your transgressions.”

James leapt to his feet, then knelt to the King. “Sire, please give me a chance to prove my loyalty to you. I will do what you want me to do for England, for you, and for Robin.”

“Stand up,” the lion threw over his shoulder, “and take a seat. I’m fed up with this spectacle.”

“I beg my pardon, milord.” James got to his feet, then headed to the chair and seated there.

The King regarded James with a cold and haughty expression, his eyes sparkling with a dangerous light, the corners of his lips quirking in a venomously sweet smile. “Begin your story, James. Don’t withhold any detail from me. Then I will tell you what to do to get your pardon.” He despised James, and his heart flamed with silent rage that James of all men had betrayed him.

James of Kent spoke for more than an hour, giving his liege a long tale about the Black Knights and his own betrayal. He gave the King the list of the names of all the Black Knights – the Earl of Spenser, the Earl of Buckingham, the Earl of Durham, and the Baron of Rotherham, as well as the names of many other Norman and English nobles who wanted Prince John to be the King of England after Richard’s death. He feared that the King would unleash his wrath on him, thinking that the only way to save his life was to say the entire truth to show the King that he could be useful to him.

James informed the King that Sheriff Peter Vaisey of Nottingham was the Head of the Black Knights club, while Guy of Gisborne served Vaisey as his henchman and was the overlord of Robin’s lands since Vaisey’s arrival in Nottingham around four years ago. He finished his tale with the declaration that it was Vaisey’s idea to send Gisborne to Acre to assassinate Richard.

King Richard observed the traitor wordlessly, his expression unreadable, his eyes blank. Yet, the calmness was just the façade because the King was very unnerved by the news. Richard knew that James was trying to save himself by telling him everything and confessing all his crimes, and he felt a little sorry for the other man, but he still wanted James dead. The King looked at the traitor with an irritated eye when the James admitted that Guy had indeed tried to take Robin’s life on the night of the Saracen raid; but then the King’s eyes swiftly turned blank again. James even didn’t know how much his confession pushed Richard to undertake exactly the course of action he had already set in his mind.

ææææææ

James had finished the tale and relapsed into silence, looking at the King in anticipation. He was so nervous and so tired that he was unable to look at the King anymore. He lowered his eyelids, wishing not to open them, so that he wouldn’t be influenced by Richard’s piercing gaze, and numbness gradually took possession of him. In a short moment, nevertheless, he reopened his eyes as through his eyelashes he still felt the King’s gaze at himself. James knew that something was not right.  

The King didn’t speak, staring at James with a strangely light smile, and this smile frightened James.

“This is everything I know,” James forced the words to come out.

“Very well, then,” Richard responded after a long pause. His voice sounded faraway, and his expression was distant. “It is worse than I expected but better than it could have been.” He laughed. “I expected my brother to turn against me sooner or later, and he is quite predictable in his actions.”

“What else do I have to do?”

Richard sent James a long, ambiguous look, his cool silence more effective than any word. And then he resumed talking, his lips lengthening in a crafty smile. “And now you will learn about the final part of our bargain, James.” Then he voiced what he wanted James to do, smiling at the traitor.

James’ heart began to tie itself into knots. “Sire, it is… a very specific mission.”

Richard flicked dust from the sleeve of his white tunic, his movement lazy and nonchalant. “Either you do that, or you will leave this tent in shackles. I can order your execution right now.”

James shuddered in horror, unable to believe what the King had just ordered him to do. Yet, he knew that he shouldn’t be astonished because the King could do many things for his grand favorites – Robin of Locksley and Robert de Beaumont. But he was still amazed how deeply Richard loved Robin. He had never thought that the King of England could be so conniving; he had spent many years near the King, but he had never known the true depths of the King’s cunningness.

“I… will do… as you order.” James had a vague idea of having momentary pleasure of flinging a chair at the King’s head, but he knew that his only chance to survive was to obey his liege.

“Good.” Richard averted his gaze, staring into the flames. “Then in five days.”

“In five days,” James echoed.

“Take care of everything, James. Ask Sir Adam of Doncaster to be ready; he is one of the best archers among the guards, and he is exactly whom we need for this task.”

“I will order Sir Adam to guard Gisborne’s cell on that evening.”

“Nobody must know,” Richard hissed. “You have no right for a mistake, James. No mistakes.”

James was shivering from head to foot. “I understand everything, sire.”

“We don’t need you anymore. Get out of my sight.” The King waved a hand of dismissal.

James leapt to his feet. “With your permission, milord,” he said, bowing deeply as he backed away to the exit from the tent. Then he stormed out of the tent, as if he were running away from a predator.

As soon as James was gone, Richard broke into a ringing laugh. As his laugh faded away, he took an empty goblet and poured out more wine for himself. “Legrand, come here.”

Next moment, Legrand slowly emerged from behind the curtain in the back of the royal tent, looking a little disoriented but more stunned. “Sire,” he said, bowing low to his liege.

Richard dismissed Legrand from his bow, welcoming his favorite with an amicable smile. Legrand’s expression was nearly comic after everything he had just overheard.

The King emptied his goblet and placed it on the table. Then he climbed to his feet and strode towards the blonde-haired Norman knight. He stopped near the other man, looking into Legrand’s eyes. “Now you know everything, Legrand, but it is a grave secret.”

Legrand gave a nod. “I understand that very well, milord.”

Richard beckoned the younger man to himself, and Legrand followed him in a pressing silence to the table with a pile of parchments and maps. Legrand preserved his silence until the lion chose to speak.

The King extracted an object wrapped in black velvet cloth, then unfolded it. He took a small bottle in his arms and took time to examine it carefully; only then he turned his gaze at Legrand. “Take this and smear the liquid on the heads of all Adam’s arrows when Adam doesn’t see that. And when the day comes, Adam should be the archer who nocks two deadly arrows.”

The lion’s chilly, resolute voice frightened Legrand a little bit, or maybe now he knew that there was work to be done, and his task was not a pleasant one. “Is that what I think, sire?”

Richard nodded, then let out a sigh of frustration. His mind flashed back over the whole matter of the recent Saracen attack, which turned out to be the regicide attempt organized by his own brother. Now he knew that Guy had come to Acre to kill him, and he also was well aware of Guy’s old conflict with Robin. The masked Saracen had attacked Robin from the back before Robin saved the King’s life in the royal tent; it was obvious that Guy had tried to kill the King of England and Captain Locksley on the same night, and James had also confirmed that. Everything fitted suddenly into its place.

"Of course," the lion confirmed. "It is a lethal thing."

Legrand took the bottle in his arms. “As much as this task is a difficult one,” he answered, putting the bottle between his palms, “I think that we have to do it as quickly as possible.”

"I’m doing this for Robin. One day Robin’s humanity may lead to his death, and I want to save him from making a huge mistake,” Richard enlightened with a bitter smile. "It comes as a bit of a shock, does it not, that I can do so much for Robin? Is it quite a little wish that I want to protect Robin so much?”

Legrand smiled and shook his head. “No. I’m not amazed.” His smile widened. “I love Robin with all my heart; I will gladly get rid of everyone who can hurt him, especially of all those who wish him dead.”

King Richard looked thoughtful, and Legrand remained quiet. They stood in a silent nervous tension for a minute or more, observing their sensations, sharing glances of understanding.

“I heard all about Guy of Gisborne and his life in Nottingham from James,” the King said after a long silence. “Gisborne is a frightful character from all accounts. He attempted regicide, and he tried to kill Robin. I cannot risk and let him go, even if I can benefit from cooperation with him.”

“Does Robin want to let the masked Saracen live?”

The lion nodded. “Yes, he does. Robin asked me to pardon Gisborne if this traitor switches sides.”

Legrand frowned. “This man is very dangerous for you, milord, and for Robin.”

“I know, Legrand, and I’m very worried. Even if Gisborne doesn’t try to kill me again, he will seize any opportunity to kill Robin. Gisborne will stab Robin from the back, for he doesn’t care how to kill the young man whom he hates so much – dishonorably or in a fair fight.”

“Our Robin is too human when he shouldn’t act this way, and he is idealistic as well. He dreams about universal peace, prosperity, and equality, but these things are impossible – not in this world.”

"Well said, Legrand," the King retorted with conviction. Then, with a hearty smile, he slapped his favorite upon his shoulder. "Robin’s main tragedy is his idealistic nature. He wants to make the world a better place, but he doesn’t understand that his mission is doomed to failure because one man cannot save the whole world. Such a great man may even lose his own life in pursuit of his dreams and ideals if he doesn’t stop near the line.” He smiled dolefully. “And I want to protect Robin as much as I can.”

Legrand grinned. “But I have a bit of a weakness for Robin’s idealism.”

“And so do I,” the lion confessed with a good-humored smile, his eyes full of deep affection that blossomed in his heart at the thought of Robin; he had entirely dropped the guard of his emotions. “Robin’s tender, loyal, and kind heart makes me love him so much, and I like that a large part of his heart is still innocent. And the dreaming side of him makes my heart beat faster because every time when Robin talks about peace and justice I remember myself in my early youth.”

"For my part," Legrand continued with a large smile, "I can say that I love Robin for his mischief, courage, and honesty most of all, but I attach a great amount of my friendly affection to Robin’s dreams.”

The King’s face turned serious. “Please keep an eye on Robin. He must know nothing.”

"Sire, I will do everything you want if it makes your life and Robin’s life safer," Legrand said in great excitement. “You have my word that everything will be done in utmost secrecy.”

"I thank you for your faithful service." A smile stole over Richard’s face.

"I’m doing my duty to England and to my King, sire," Legrand said proudly, “and to my Captain.”

The lion patted the knight’s shoulder. “Excellent, Legrand." He smiled slightly. “Now you know how matters stand and what you should do.”

"Soon it will be over.”

“Let’s hope that it will,” Richard said quietly. “You may go.”

Legrand wrapped the bottle in the same piece of velvet cloth, and put it into the inner pocket of his tunic. “As you command, my lord.” He bowed his head, and then went to the exit from the tent.

King Richard extended his hand and found a small parchment among the pile of parchments. He unrolled it and broke the royal seal – Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine’s personal seal. He smiled at the sight of his mother’s beautiful, calligraphic handwriting. The Queen Mother’s message was eloquent and written in Norman-French, the King's native language.

_My dear Richard,_

_I hope that you are healthy and that you are talking care of yourself in the distant lands I visited many years ago when I headed the Second Crusade together with Louis._

_You should make peace with Saladin and come back home. John is plotting against you. If you don’t return soon, you may lose your kingdom and your throne._

_As for your question about Robin of Locksley and the assassin, I don’t know why you asked me for an advice. I remember Robin very well, and I have always liked this outspoken and charming lad. Robin saved your life many times during the war, and he is your dear friend, so you should keep Robin safe; you need this young man very much and I know that you have deep affection for him._

_You always can handle assassins and conspiracies without keeping one of many traitors alive. Most importantly, the life of one traitor is not important if his death makes your friend safe, even if the way he dies is not a chivalrous one. There will always be many traitors, but not many friends._

_Take care of yourself, my beloved son._

_Your loving mother Eleanor_

The Queen Mother’s secret message the King had received a day ago gave him the final course of action; Richard and Eleanor maintained regular correspondence through Sultan’s prize birds. The King didn’t want to do to Guy what he planned because it was not a knightly way of dealing with traitors, but this case was exceptional. Eleanor’s message made the lion see with vivid, merciless clearness, the relations between the past, the present, and the future – he realized that if he had let Guy live, Robin would most likely be murdered by Guy sooner or later, and it was unacceptable for Richard.

Richard seated himself into the chair, the Queen Mother’s letter pressed between his palms; he stared into the emptiness of the tent. “I did that for you, Robin,” he murmured to himself; then he put the parchment on the table. “God forgive me for what I permitted to do.”

ææææææ

Robin of Locksley spent several days in his bed, but it was difficult for him to stay bedridden. Much was fussing over his master like a mother over her child, annoying and infuriating the young Captain. Several times Robin tried to climb out of the bed and leave the tent, but it caused him a lot of pain. Doctor Raoul gave Robin sleeping draught mixed with wine and juices which Much brought for his troublesome master; Robin didn’t know what he was given to drink, and he slept for many hours, but when he understood the trick, he was ready to murder Much and the physician on the spot.

The sun burst through the gauzy mists which veiled it, and the golden light penetrated into Robin’s tent through the open flap of the tent. Propped on the pillows, Robin sat in the bed, luxuriating in the bright and glorious environment that seemed to be a very dream of beauty in the lands destroyed by death and bloodshed. He was relieved that the pain in his left side had already subsided enough to let him sleep without taking pain-killing herbs every night; yet, his wound still throbbed in pain if he made awkward and quick movements, or if he inhaled and exhaled sharply.

Robin was far away in his thoughts, dreaming about the loveliness of England, the freshness of the morning air, the golden glare of the sunshine, the cloudless sky, the luxuriant green of Sherwood Forest, and a gentle hum of life which pervaded a closely-settled Nottinghamshire. Robin missed home, and his heart ached for everything and everyone he had left behind: he missed the twitter of birds, the buzz of insects, the lowing of cattle, the distant barking of dogs, and the drizzling rains that were so typical for England in autumns, springs, and even in winters. He missed all what he loved in his old life so much. But most of all he missed Lady Marian of Knighton, whom he loved throughout all the years of their pointless fight with the infidels.

Robin was pulled out of his thoughts when Doctor Raoul appeared at the doorway of the tent. The King’s personal physician came to examine his patient; he was accompanied by the Earl of Leicester, who came to make his friend’s life savored with merriment rather than boredom. Leicester and Much helped Robin undress, and soon Robin lay naked from the waist upon top of the crumpled silk sheets, watching the physician unpack several bottles and a couple of bandages from the medical beg as the man prepared to tend to Robin’s wound.

Doctor Raoul eyed Robin. “How are you feeling now, Lord Huntingdon?”

“The pain is rather… acute if I make sharp movements,” Robin replied truthfully.

“The wound is still healing. You will feel much better in about two-three weeks,” the doctor stated. “But I think that the wound may still throb in pain for a month or even more.”

Robin looked absent-minded, almost desperate. “But I want to interrogate Gisborne!”

“Robin, if you are not attentive to your health, the King will be displeased,” Robert warned. “And we still have a ceasefire, for the attack didn’t ruin our achievements on the way to peace.”

“You are right,” Robin agreed reluctantly. “I will interrogate him when I can.”

Much handed the physician a bowl of fresh water he had just brought at Doctor Raoul’s request; then he stared at Robin. “Master, you have to stay in the bed. You need more time to rest. You must sleep and eat and do nothing else. So far we are not fighting, and you must use this time to recover. And I must take care of you because you cannot take care of yourself. You are not strong enough.”

A wave of anger passed through Robin as he listened to Much ranting over and over again that he was not healthy yet. “Pray tell me, Much, what do you mean by that somewhat impertinent observation that I’m not as strong as I used to be?"

The Earl of Leicester grinned widely. Of course, Robin found it more than disgraceful that someone could speak such things about him, Captain Locksley, the infamous leader of the King’s men who had won laurels of victories in many battles with the Saracens and who enjoyed a blaze of glory much more than anybody else. Leicester opened his mouth to give some hot retort to Robin’s angry outburst, but Much got before him.

“Master, I’m just taking care of you. I’m worried about you,” Much said, somewhat embarrassed.

“Much, you don’t have to babysit me,” Robin retorted.

Robert laughed. “Robin, nobody will be able to tolerate you for a longer time than Much has been doing that.” He chuckled. “Even I often find you intolerable.”

“As much as you are.” Robin grimaced in pain as the physician took the cloth from his wound.

Robert grinned. “I don’t deny that.”

“Sir Robin, I don’t know how you managed to fight with your wound,” Doctor Raoul looked at Robin, his eyes revealing deep respect and adoration. “Soldiers usually either die straight away or cannot even stand if they are wounded as severely as you were injured by the masked Saracen.”

Robin smiled. “At that time, I didn’t worry about myself. I knew that I had to act – I had to save King Richard.” His heart thundered in his chest; his voice deepened. “My own troubles were not important – the King’s life was at stake.”

Robert smiled. “Robin, I understand you. I would have acted in the same manner.” He winked at Robin. “You and I have always been the most loyal of all the King’s men, my friend.”

“There is no doubt that it is true,” Much agreed. “The King holds you both in the highest favor.”

Robin smiled smugly. “Of course, we are loyal and beloved, but… not very obedient.” He tilted his head to one side. “Well, Robert, you know what I mean.”

Robert chuckled. “Oh, I do know.”

“You both could have been executed many times for insubordination if the King hadn’t loved you so much,” Much supplied. “I always fear that you, Master, will cross the line and enrage the King.”

Robert smirked. “Much, don’t worry. The King will never execute us. He loves us too much.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Robin said in sing song tones, a smug smile hovering over his lips. “We are a fabulous combination of arrogance, audacity, foolhardiness, bravery, impudence, sweetness, compassion, charm, and goodness.” His spirits improved. “The King will miss us if we are gone.”

Doctor Raoul removed the cloth from the wound. “Lord Leicester and Lord Huntingdon, you both are the most intolerable men I have ever met.” His voice was teasing, his eyes kind. “You entertain the King and every soldier in the camp.”

“We are always making mischief and are always courting trouble. Without us, everyone will be bored.” Robin’s expression was an eccentric mixture of mightiness and innocence.

“There is no fun without us.” Robert laughed, but then he winced in pain.

“There are always mischief and trouble where you both go,” Much twittered. “And I go with you.”

After the Earl of Leicester and the physician left, Robin let his mind drift off to the most urgent matter he had to deal with – the masked Saracen. He could not forget the awful reality that Gisborne had tried to kill the King and him on the same night, and the full solemnity of the event loomed ever at the back of his mind and tempered his thoughts. But despite his disdain and hatred for Guy he was ready to overlook his feelings and spare Guy’s life if Guy agreed to help him save the King from the Black Knights. But if Guy didn’t wish to cooperate, Robin intended to make Guy pay for his crimes.

“Master, do you need anything else?” Much asked.

Robin turned his gaze at his loyal friend. “My name is Robin,” he said. “Call me Robin.”

“Of course, Robin.” It wasn’t easy for Much to use the form of addressing his former master preferred at the moment. “Do you need anything? Should I bring some food for you?”

“Thank you, Much, but I don’t need anything.”

“I can do whatever you want.”

Robin smiled. “I know, my friend, and for that I love you.”

Much looked at Robin with affectionate eyes. “I love you very much too, Robin.”

Robin and Much stared at each other and smiled. Memories of their happy childhood flashed in their minds, and their hearts swelled with nostalgia for England and Locksley. They pictured the scenes of the past when they had run wildly with peasant children in Locksley, when they had gone to have target practice in Sherwood, and when Robin had trained Much to fight with a sword in the woods, so that Sir Edward of Knighton couldn’t have seen the young Earl of Huntingdon again disobeying him and teaching his manservant to fight. Much also remembered the numerous times when Robin had delivered punishing blows to all those who had ever offended him because of his low station. Most of all, Robin and Much longed to go home and see England again, but they wanted to turn time back even more, so they had never gone to the Holy Land and had stayed in England, leading a normal life.

“You should rest because you must be tired,” Much assumed.

Robin gave a nod. “You are right. I want to sleep.”

Much helped Robin to change his clothes into long and ample tunicthat descended quite to the ground if Robin stood up and straightened to his full height; the garment was convenient for night sleep because it didn’t envelop Robin’s body tightly and didn’t create any pressure on the healing wound. Then Robin and Much exchanged goodnight wishes, and the torches went out in the tent. Much was still sleeping in Robin’s tent despite Robin’s decision to make him a free man and an Earl: the loyal former manservant would have never abandoned Robin to the care of anyone else when he himself could nurse Robin back to health.

A leaden, tumultuous sleep fell on Robin and held him unconscious until the next morning. He awoke later than usual, around midday, and his first coherent thought was about Guy of Gisborne. The recollection of his yesterday’s conversation with Guy troubled him during the whole day. Robin hoped that Guy would make a right choice because he didn’t wish to order Guy’s execution, even though he loathed and hated Guy. Robin gave Guy a choice, and now Guy’s fate was in his own hands, Robin mistakenly thought, not knowing anything about the King’s interference into the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Amaranthe Athenais for helping me with this story. If her head wasn’t so full of great ideas, this story would have never been written.
> 
> It was my idea that King Richard would interfere, but I didn‘t know how to introduce this twist into the storyline. Thanks to Amaranthe for mapping out the scenes of the King’s conversation with James and Legrand. You will learn about Richard’s plan in the next chapter, and I assure you that I will try to be fair to the characters. 
> 
> The next chapter is the last one, and then we have only the epilogue.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Trap**

While Robin of Locksley was recovering in the King's camp, Guy of Gisborne was confined to his lonely cell. The welts on his back were gradually healing, but he still underwent a regular examination; Legrand permitted the doctor to visit the dangerous prisoner every day. Guy spent his time staring into the stone ceiling of his cell and waiting for Robin to come. Like some unfortunate lover, harshly dealt with by his beloved, he resolved to bear his burdens with dignified silence.

Dungeons were everywhere around Guy, and it drove him to the edge of his sanity. Guy tried to think about the happy days of his life, when he was the happiest of all men in the world – when his parents had been alive and before his father had gone to fight in the Holy Land. Yet, even those memories gave him no pleasure, and the least flower of happiness and consolation which strewed his path disappeared on the back of his impending death sentence.

Guy tried to guess how Locksley would execute him, for he didn't believe that there was the way out of the prison. Yet, there was some hope in his heart after Robin's words spoken during his last visit. And he was ready to cooperate, to tell Robin everything about Sheriff Vaisey and the Black Knights. Somehow, even power didn't interest him as much as it had interested him before. He could feel only a touch of death in the air and hear only curses of his soul at the imaginary moment of his death instead of holy hymn and lamentation from a woman's lips; he believed that he was too wicked to deserve something holy, for Vaisey had done everything to have his protégé damned to perpetual burning in hell.

On the fifth day after Robin's visit into Guy's cell, the guards notified Guy that Captain Locksley wished to interrogate him. The guards rudely pulled Guy from a straw mattress and dragged him out of the dungeons and then out of the building of the prison. Guy was happy to look at the sky with the setting sun that blazed like a huge red orb, slowly disappearing beneath the horizon. Guy was delighted to see even at the yellow sand, if only he could avoid looking at the stone walls of his prison for some time. Yet, there was a strange turmoil within his head, as if a foreshadowing of a catastrophe.

As the guards dragged him somewhere, Guy could see a road curving down the side of the sandy hill. He wondered where he was led for interrogation, for he was puzzled that Robin didn't come to his cell like he had done five days ago. Guy could see a row of tents ahead, and soon they stopped near one of the tents. The guards checked the shackles on Guy's wrists and his ankles, and then Sir James of Kent approached the masked Saracen from the back.

"We will need to talk after your interrogation," James of Kent whispered into Guy's ear.

Guy shot an alarmed glance at James. "What happened?"

"Later," James barked, then pushed Guy ahead. "Now go to Robin."

Guy stepped into the tent and stopped at the entrance. He swept his eyes over the tent that was richly furnished with some beautiful pieces of furniture, expensive hangings, and a pile of soft silk pillows scattered on the Turkish carpet that lay on the ground. Guy realized that it had to be Robin's tent: it definitely couldn't be a tent of a common soldier – it had to be a tent of a royal favorite.

Guy felt his body shaking in fear as his gaze wandered across the tent. Robin was standing in the corner of the tent; he wasn't looking at Guy, his gaze fixed on the blade of his unsheathed scimitar he was holding in his arms. Robin was dressed in a white Crusader tunic and black flat pants, but he didn't wear chainmail that could have caused much pressure on his torso and hurt his healing wound.

Robin swung around to face Guy. "Come in, my dear masked Saracen." He flashed a smile as he eyed Guy from top to toe. "Now you look like Guy of Gisborne, not like a disguised Saracen assassin."

Guy hated Robin's ability to always have fun, which his mortal enemy possessed since childhood. "And you look like…" He trailed off, trying to find right words to throw a nasty barb at Robin.

"Yeah, I look like the Captain of the King's Private Guard," Robin retorted with a brilliant smile. He looked down at his sword; then his gaze slid to Guy. "You shouldn't mock me, Gisborne. You have never possessed a sense of wit, and your recent adventures in Acre seem to have deprived you of your last sense of humor, which, I'm sorry to say, you have also never had in abundance."

Guy absolutely despised Robin at that moment. "Want to humiliate me, Locksley?"

Robin chuckled. "I'm merely stating the fact, Gisborne."

Guy laughed. "And you always were dryly humorous – so humorous that all nobles in Nottingham considered you inappropriate to be an heir of the Earl of Huntingdon."

Robin took a step forward and seated himself into the chair. Leaning back against his chair, he stared at Guy, holding himself rigid as he fought to bring his emotions under control; he gripped tightly the hilt of his scimitar. "And you always envied me, Gisborne. I was a disobedient and noisy child, but everyone loved me for my mischievous ways. I always had fun." A small smile tugged at his lips. "Children sought my company, while they avoided you because you were somber and dull, though I agree that you were a well-behaved lad, at least in public."

"At least everyone considered me a serious young man until your father and you ruined my life," Guy answered gruffly. "You never deserved what you have, Locksley. You never deserved lofty titles and wealth you have. You are a worthless man – worthless of everything you have."

Robin laughed. "And are you a better man than I'm, Gisborne?" He raised his sword and pointed it at Guy. "You traveled to Acre and organized the raid on the King's camp." His eyes were full of disdain, his sword still pointed at the raven-haired man. "During the attack, you behaved so knightly that you stabbed me from the back in the darkness, not in an honorable fight." His gaze turned hateful. "And then you ran to the King's tent and almost killed the King."

Guy smirked darkly. "But I didn't kill the King."

Robin put his scimitar on the table. "You failed because I stopped you."

"And you are so proud of yourself, aren't you?" Guy gave Robin a contemptuous glance. "You are so full of yourself, always showing off your archery skills, like on the night when I was almost hanged for your mischief."

To Guy's astonishment, Robin didn't make a jest of him. He shook his head, his expression almost guilty. "I was not right when I allowed them to think that your arrow wounded the priest." He let out a sigh of frustration. "But I learnt my lesson, and I became a better man."

Guy looked perplexed, for he didn't expect that Robin would ever openly acknowledge his guilt. "A better man?" he exclaimed in disbelief. "You cannot become a better man, Locksley. You are a spoiled brat, arrogant and full of yourself. You are a hypocrite through and through."

"I never lied after that case with an arrow," Robin declared, his voice high and tight. "And I don't care what you think about me because I don't respect you, and your opinion means nothing to me."

"A hypocrite," Guy reiterated.

"I'm not a liar," Robin reiterated, a look of annoyance on his face. "And I'm not as cruel as you are."

Guy's eyes challenged Robin. "At times, we do things we don't want to do because we want to survive."

Robin shrugged. "Did you need to attempt regicide in order to survive?"

Guy bowed his raven-haired head. "I… I…" He truly didn't know what to say.

"I see," Robin said in a mournful tone; he suspected why Guy had tried to take his liege's life, and he loathed everyone who could sell their soul for privileges and power. "You were cruel in childhood. I still remember the moment when I saw you in the forest with a small rabbit you held in your hands." He sighed. "You twisted the neck of that rabbit. I was a child, and I was terrified of your actions."

Guy gave Robin a look of unfeigned surprise; he didn't think that Robin remembered that case. "The brave Captain Locksley fears something, doesn't he?"

"Do I have to remind you that you are not in a position to quarrel with me?" Robin's voice was low, but authoritative and harsh. "If you continue behaving in the same way, I will feel sorry for you because you will feel solitude and pain twice as heavily as you have already felt since you were captured."

Guy bit his bottom lip, trying to conqueror his emotions. He hated Robin at that minute more than he had hated him during the days of his imprisonment in Acre. He hated that Robin had such a great power over him. He hated that Robin could kill him on the spot or could condemn him to the most brutal death. An agitated, troubled mind ceased to reason, and he felt that he was unable to control a feeling of dread gripping his heart. His rationality was carried away by a resistless torrent of anger and hatred, and he was so full of malignity that he had forgotten the reality again.

"Calm down and take a seat there, Gisborne," Robin said calmly, as if he were reading Guy's thoughts. He pointed at the chair near the entrance to the tent. "I'm not going to kill you; at least not now."

Guy sat down, relieved that he wouldn't have to stand on his feet. "And then will you kill me, Locksley? Will you order your men to kill me or will you do that by your own hand?"

"You know, Gisborne, I'm really surprised now," Robin admitted thoughtfully. "You seem to know a lot about my reputation in the Holy Land. And yet, you prefer to ignore some facts about me which even the Saracens acknowledge." He smiled a little sadly; he didn't consider the Saracens his enemies. "The Saracens say that I possess a chivalrous and human nature because I never let my men slaughter women and children. They also say that they can always believe Captain Locksley's word."

"I have no reason to believe that you will help me, Locksley."

"Yet, you should believe me," Robin fired back, looking at Guy, "because now I'm the only man who stands between the King's order to execute you and your continuing imprisonment." He grinned devilishly. "I just think that you may be more useful alive than dead. And I can always murder you later if I want to do that."

"I will cooperate," Guy stated, gazing at Robin with eyes darkening in rage, "but not because I want to be obliged to you, Locksley."

"I know. You want to save your miserable life."

"You would not do that if you were in my shoes, would you?"

"I would have never been in such a dire situation, Gisborne."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not a traitor. I would have never tried to kill my King. I'm not you."

Guy frowned. "You could have been me if you had been banished from Locksley with nothing – even without clothes and a penny in your pocket."

"I will say this only once," Robin said in a distant voice; he averted his gaze. "I did a wrong thing when I allowed Bailiff Longthorn to chase you and Isabella away from Locksley." He turned his gaze at Guy. "But I hated you for murdering my father, and I wanted you out of Locksley and out of my sight."

Guy looked shocked, and then shock evolved into amazement. "Is it another trick of yours?"

"No, Gisborne." Robin glanced away, staring into the flames of the flickering torch. "This is one of the few reasons why I haven't ordered yet to execute you like a dog, though only God knows how much I'm tempted to end your life here and now."

"You are a liar," Guy fired back automatically, unable to believe what he heard. He had always had an image of another Robin in his mind, and Robin's honesty shocked him to the core.

"You may say whatever you want," Robin shot back. "I gave you a chance to survive, and if you want to live, you will use it." Finally, he turned to look at Guy. "Otherwise, you will be hanged, drawn, and quartered." His voice was low and melancholic. "But maybe you still have some good conscience left."

"I will tell you everything." Hope that maybe his life wasn't cursed yet revived in Guy's heart.

As Guy finished his tale, Robin was silent for a long moment. His eyes blazed, and then, with a tremendous effort, he mastered his anger and leaned back in his seat with arms folded over his chest. "I fear to imagine what I will find in my lands if you were the overlord of Locksley for so many years." He released a sigh of exasperation. "Everything you told me is disgusting and deplorable."

"I told you the truth," Guy parried.

"I believe you."

"What will happen to me now?"

Robin smiled tiredly. "I will keep my word, Gisborne. I will speak with the King for you." Not giving Guy time to say anything else, Robin called James who emerged at the entrance to the tent. "James, take the masked Saracen to his cell. All my previous instructions remain in full force and effect."

James nodded. "Everything will be done exactly as you wish, Robin. Don't worry about anything," he said, bowing his head in obedience.

ææææææ

Two guards entered the tent and grabbed Guy’s shoulders. Guy had no time to say anything to Robin as the King’s men started dragging him out of the tent in the direction of the prison. The sun already was very low, and it wasn't long before the darkness engulfed the city of Acre. James of Kent was walking step by step with Guy and his captors, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. And then Guy heard the sound of the thump, as though something or someone had tumbled to the ground.

Guy looked around, and his eyes locked with James' orbs. "What the hell?" He turned his head and saw two unconscious guards lying on the sand. "Why did you knock them out?" He understood nothing; his head was spinning, anxiety overcame him.

James plastered a smile on his face. "We are escaping, Gisborne."

"Why? Why now?" Guy asked, greatly confused. "What is going on?"

"King Richard won't listen to Robin," James announced with a grim expression. "He will execute you in any case. He will execute us together if we don't escape right now."

"Damn King Richard! Damn Locksley!" Guy fumed.

"We must go! Now! Now!" James cried out.

Guy shook his head. "Yes, let's leave this damned place."

Unfortunately, the wheels of fate turned in the most unpredictable way for both Guy and James: they were not destined to run away from the King's camp on that day. They heard the voices and the steps of approaching King's men, and then Legrand's loud voice gave a deathly command in Norman-French.

"Fire! Fire!" Legrand's shrilling voice resonated. "Traitors are escaping!"

The King's men released a hail of arrows at Guy and James, and then they were surrounded from all the sides. One of the arrows struck James into his neck, and he fell dead to the ground, paying for high treason in a way King Richard had decided to punish him. Another arrow struck Guy in his chest, and he staggered backwards, giving an inhuman howl of pain; then his tall frame tumbled to the sand.

Guy had never felt such a horrible pain before. A sharp pain slashed through his chest, and he felt his mouth filling with the sea of blood, which he had to swallow in order not to choke with the hot red liquid, tart and sticky. He was sure that an arrow punctured his lungs. His vision was blurred, and the series of brilliant colors through gradations of orange, yellow, green, blue, and indigo to violet ones flashed in his mind. He was struggling with all his energy and strength left to stand up and make another attempt to escape, but he failed; he could neither move nor breathe.

King Richard and Legrand stood in several steps from where Guy and James had fallen. Their faces were devoid of emotions as they swept their eyes over the bodies of the two traitors. Other guards stood near them, waiting for the lion's orders and looking at the body of James, their faces revealing horror mingled with amazement; they were shocked to discover James' true allegiances.

"It is dreadful – dreadful – that Sir James of Kent tried to help the masked Saracen escape," Richard said in the voice that resembled something between nervous laughter and tears of sorrow. "I have never thought that James could have ever betrayed his King."

Legrand nodded gravely. "James deserved his death. He deserved worse than such a quick death."

"Yes," the King agreed, his heart wounded by James' betrayal. "James disappointed us."

"Gisborne seems to be alive," Legrand noticed as he noticed the movement of Guy's legs.

Richard leaned closer to Legrand. "Did you do what I asked?" he murmured into Legrand's ear.

"Of course, sire," Legrand whispered. "Adam shot both James and Gisborne with poisoned arrows."

The King smiled with a mirthful smile. "Today was a good day. Two traitors caught in one trap."

The lion's words brought uproarious merriment from Legrand. He laughed until everything in the air seemed to rattle and quiver. "It is done. Robin is free from this worm."

Richard gazed at Guy's twitching limbs. "Not exactly. Gisborne will be finished in several hours."

"Yes, milord."

"Legrand, please take care of these traitors," the King instructed.

Legrand bowed his head. "As you command, my liege." He shouted orders to take the bodies of Guy and James to the building of the prison, and then he hurried to other guards.

King Richard regarded the scene with an indifferent expression; he got what he wanted, and he was satisfied. "Now you are safe from this man, Robin," he thought. "We can be sure that he won't kill you from the back." Then he turned around and regally walked away, with five guards trailing behind him.

The King didn't like what had happened just now, but he had accepted the inevitable outcome of Robin's old conflict with Guy. It was better for Robin to think that Guy had died after he had foolishly tried to escape from the Crusaders' camp; the young Captain didn't need to know the grotesque truth about the true identity of the culprit who had trapped two traitors on the same day. Robin didn't need to know that the King had done everything to protect him from Guy. Richard didn't need Guy and loathed him wholeheartedly, but he needed and loved Robin very much. And now his Robin was safe.

As soon as Robin heard shouts of alarm outside, he jumped to his feet and stormed out of his tent. He stopped at the entrance, looking around and trying to understand what had happened. At first, he thought that the Saracens had attacked the King's camp, but then he heard the conversation of several guards who were involved in a heated discussion about the attempt of Sir James of Kent and Sir Guy of Gisborne to run away; it was the last thing Robin had expected to hear.

Robin approached the group of the guards who relapsed into silence at the sight of their Captain and bowed to him in respect. "What happened here?" Robin demanded impatiently.

"Robin, I can answer your questions," Legrand offered as he appeared near the other guards, who looked relieved that they wouldn't have to explain to their Captain what had happened in the camp.

Robin stared at James, his expression as hard as granite. "What of your report, Legrand?"

"The masked Saracen tried to escape assisted by Sir James of Kent," Legrand announced.

Robin's expression turned incredulous. "James?"

"You didn't mishear Legrand, Robin," the King declared. He emerged next to Legrand and the King's guards, each of whom bowed their heads very low at the sight of the monarch. Richard waved his hand, dismissing everyone from their bows. "James of Kent, our old friend and your second-in-command, was a foul traitor who was bought by the Black Knights and betrayed us."

Robin lowered his head, but in a brief moment he raised his eyes to the King. He stood in wide-eyed amazement, looking at his liege, his mind racing in an attempt to find explanation for the recent events. It was difficult to believe that James of all the King's men was a traitor. "So James was the spy who made the Saracen attack undetected," he concluded.

"Yes," Richard confirmed.

There was sadness in Robin's blue eyes. "The thought that James can be the traitor crossed my mind, but I didn't want to believe in that."

"It is not easy to learn that an old friend betrayed you," the King agreed.

Robin sighed. "Where are Guy of Gisborne and James of Kent now? Have they been captured?"

The King turned his gaze at Legrand. "Legrand, you raised an alarm. Please tell us everything."

Legrand proceeded to the tale he had fabricated for Robin and every other King's man. He informed how James and Guy had tried to escape after Guy had been taken from Robin's tent. He said that James and Guy had almost killed several guards, though it was an exaggerated version of events because the guards had been only rendered unconscious by heavy blows to their heads. Legrand acknowledged that he had commanded to shoot arrows at James and Guy in order to prevent their escape, informing Robin that James had been killed and Guy had been grievously injured.

Robin's face was distorted in an expression of horrible fury after Legrand had finished his tale. "Legrand, how could you order to shoot at James and Guy, knowing that Guy had agreed to help us?"

Legrand shifted his feet uncomfortably. "Robin, they tried to escape. I had to stop them."

Robin's eyes blazed with anger into Legrand's. "You could have done something else, Legrand!" he almost shouted. "I gave Gisborne my word that I would vouch for him to the King!"

"Robin, cool off your head!" the King interposed. He feigned displeasure on his face, his eyes shooting daggers at Robin. He predicted that Robin would be furious after learning about Legrand's orders, and he intervened into the argument to help Legrand. "We were with Legrand in our tent when we heard shouts of alarm of our men. We commanded Legrand to deal with what happened, and he did everything to prevent the traitors' escape before he ordered to release arrows at them."

Robin tore his gaze from the King and glanced at Legrand. "Was there really no other way to stop their escape?" he inquired, still stunned and displeased.

Legrand shook his head in confirmation, surprised how easy it was to lie into his Captain's face. "Robin, you have my word that there was nothing else we could do," he said firmly. "I know that you are a man of honor. Although I hate Gisborne, I would have never done anything that could have made you go back on your word and could have compromised your personal code of honor."

Robin had no reason not to believe Legrand who proved his competence many times during the years of the war. Moreover, they were close friends, and Legrand never gave Robin any reason to doubt his loyalty to their friendship. "I beg my pardon that I doubted your word, Legrand. I just didn't expect that Guy would try to escape after our agreement."

The King stepped forward and stopped next to Robin; he put his large hands on Robin's slim shoulders and looked into Robin's eyes. "When I permitted you to make Gisborne an offer of royal pardon in exchange for information, I feared that the man was not trustworthy," he said steadily. "A man, who tried to kill his King to earn power and wealth, can always betray his liege again even after he switched sides. If such a vile man is tempted by promises of power and riches, he can attempt regicide again."

Robin looked at his liege wonder-struck. "Sire, I thought that Gisborne and I came to understanding."

"You were mistaken, Robin," the King said, trying to make his voice sound soft. "Gisborne is a criminal, and he used his chance to escape from Acre with James, intending to return to England and start plotting new regicide. We are lucky that Legrand and our men prevented their escape."

Robin was at loss for words. "Maybe you are right, milord."

Richard smiled kindly at his favorite. "Robin, you are too gentle and too kind when you shouldn't be," he chided gently. "You are an intelligent man and a great leader, but you don't understand human nature very well: people are usually much worse than you want them to be."

The young Captain blanched. "You told me about that many times, sire."

The King patted Robin's shoulder. "Robin, don't blame yourself for what you are not responsible for."

"Where is Gisborne now?" Robin wanted to know.

"This traitor was brought back to the prison," the King answered. "Raoul is examining him right now."

Robin was so nervous and so frustrated that he didn't pay attention to the small detail that the King's personal physical, not any other medic, was tending to Gisborne for the first time since Guy's capture. "I want to see him," he whispered.

Richard shook his head approvingly. "Naturally, Robin."

"Thank you, milord." Robin bowed, and started walking in the direction of the prison.

Legrand was looking at Robin's retreating back. "I hope it went well, my liege."

The King smiled appreciatively at Legrand. "Better than I expected," he remarked in a personal tone, a smile playing in the corners of his lips. "You will not lose Robin's friendship, Legrand."

Next moment, Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, approached the King; he bowed to his liege. "I already know what happened tonight," he said rudely. "Robin should have never trusted Gisborne."

The King and Legrand nodded in agreement. The King was relieved that he hadn't enlightened Robert about his tricky plan to get rid of Gisborne because the King's second grand favorite was very similar to Robin and he would have never approved of the King's secret and cunning little scheme.

ææææææ

The sun had already went down behind the sandy hills, and Robin moved through the camp in the darkness, caring little about the King's guards who bowed to him and greeted him, asking him about his health. He could hear Much's shouts as his loyal friend was running to him, begging him to return to the tent because he was still weak and needed to rest. It was the moment when Much's fussing annoyed Robin beyond measure. Looking around, he could see nothing in a distance that shrouded in the darkness, and he suddenly felt panic at the thought of Guy's death.

Much caught up with Robin's pace as they continued walking towards the prison. "Robin, please return to the tent! Others can take care of these traitors!"

Robin paused, glaring at Much. "Do you know that Gisborne may be dying at this moment?"

"I don't care about the masked Saracen!" Much cried out. "I care only about your health, Robin!"

Robin didn't waste time on talking to Much, continuing his way to the prison. Near the building of the prison, the guards bowed to the Captain of the Private Guard and smiled earnestly at them, but Robin ignored them and kept going to Guy's cell. Now he didn't care about any of his comrades, thinking only about the condemned man whom he believed to have betrayed the King again. Despite Guy's current predicament, the cell was guarded by six heavily armed soldiers from the Private Guard, each of whom bowed to Robin and then opened the door of the dungeon where Guy was kept.

As Robin entered the cell, Doctor Raoul de Déols rose from the chair to greet Robin, his old-time cordial smile of welcome lighting his face. "Lord Huntingdon, I'm glad to see that your health has already improved so much that you move freely in the camp," he began in a light tone.

Robin ignored the physician's words. "How is Guy of Gisborne doing?" he asked, his eyes focused on Guy's prone form that lay on a straw mattress in the corner of the cell. He was told that Guy had been shot, but now there was no arrow protruding out of Guy's chest.

Doctor Raoul knew that Guy had been shot with a poisoned arrow because King Richard had revealed him that the truth in a secret, private conversation and had sent him to Guy's cell to make sure that nobody would ever uncover the King's deceit. "I removed the arrow from Gisborne's chest and stopped the bleeding, but there is a breach of the lung surface that may kill him in the end. He has already lost much blood, and his life is in grave danger."

"What are his chances to survive?" There was a tremble in Robin's voice.

"If he doesn't have internal bleeding, he may have a chance to survive. If he pulls through the night, then maybe he will live."

Robin nodded. "Thank you," he said politely. "Leave me with Gisborne for a minute."

The doctor gave a nod and headed to the door, praying that Guy wouldn't tell Robin anything about strange sensations in his body, which were not obviously related to the injury of lunges. They didn't need Robin to suspect the true reason of Guy's death as the King had said to his physician.

"Locksley," Guy greeted in a weak voice. "I didn't expect that you would visit my humble dwelling."

Robin stopped near the mattress, looking down at Guy in pitying commiseration. "Why did you try to escape, Gisborne?" he questioned. "I promised you that I would spare your life." He sighed. "I truly wanted to help you, but you aggravated your situation and destroyed everything."

Guy glanced up at Robin, whose face seemed too pale even in the flickering light of the only torch in the dungeon. He measured Robin with an attentive, searching look, and he could see that his enemy wasn't lying. "Perhaps, you wanted to help me, but the King craved to spill my blood in any case."

"King Richard approved of my idea to make you our spy among the Black Knights."

"Really?" Guy was bewildered.

"King Richard is a practical man, and he agreed with my suggestion. But you betrayed me after I agreed to help you, and I don't understand why you tried to escape."

"James said that the King wouldn't pardon me." Guy felt unusual weakness in his body. The sharp, tormenting pain was present not only in the region of his back, where his lungs functioned beneath his skin and bones, but also in his entire body that was terribly aching and was becoming weaker and weaker, as if something were draining the rest of his strength from his entire being.

"You even didn't tell me that James conspired with the Black Knights."

"I had to keep his name in secret as a last resort attempt to save myself in case our deal failed."

Robin shook his head in disbelief. "You acted stupidly, Gisborne."

"I'm dying," Guy whispered. "I feel death so close to me."

Robin thought that he saw a ghost of the man whom he had talked to only several hours ago. "Don't think about death, Gisborne. The physician says that you can survive, and if you do, I will try to help you."

Guy smiled faintly. "Even though I don't like you, Locksley, I cannot deny that you have a noble heart."

"Oh," Robin breathed. He was astounded to hear that from Guy, but he didn't make any comment in response.

"Robin," Guy pronounced his enemy's name without malice and hatred for the first time in many years. "There is a servant girl in Locksley who was pregnant with my child when I left Nottingham for Acre." He trailed off, feeling that it was becoming more and more painful to breathe. "Her name is Annie."

Robin looked a little absent-minded. "What do you want me to do for her?"

"Please don't throw her and the baby out of the manor when you return to England."

"Guy, I would have never done that," Robin assured him, changing the manner of their conversation to personal. It was the first time when he addressed to Guy by his first name in a conversational manner. "You have my word that I will take care of Annie and your child in case you… die."

"Thank you," Guy murmured, turning his head and staring into the emptiness.

"You have to sleep a little bit," Robin advised in a shaky voice.

"It is not going to solve anything," Guy stated with resignation, his voice weak. His chest heaved into an agonizing breath, and he suddenly felt confused why he had such sensations in his body. "I know that you won't feel too much aggrieved with my death, and nobody will be mourning for me."

Robin uttered a long sigh. "I would better go. Try to rest." He managed a half-warm smile looking down at Guy, feeling very uncomfortable in Guy's presence. "I will visit you in the morning."

When Robin had left, Doctor Raoul returned into the cell. He settled himself into the chair next to Guy's mattress, patiently waiting for the moment when the soul of the masked Saracen would finally depart from Earth. "How are you feeling, Gisborne?" He was well aware that Guy was feeling really unwell.

"You know that I'm dying." Guy's voice was so quiet that the physician strained his ears to hear him. His lips quivered, and a single fat tear rolled down his cheek. "I have already guessed that the arrow was poisoned."

Doctor Raoul gave Guy a frightened glance, but his face quickly recovered its neutrality. "How dare you declare such ridiculous things, you traitor?" he accused the prisoner. "Have you gone mad?"

Guy smirked. "I'm not out of my mind, and you know the truth too," he replied in an unsteady voice. "But it doesn't matter anymore." He let out a small laugh. "The King's favorite will never know the truth that can make him so disappointed in his heroic liege lord and his finest friend – the mighty and fair King Richard the Lionheart."

The physician feigned indifference, but his sigh was still audible. "Your mind is clouded by pain."

Guy only laughed quietly, but then winced as the pain coursed through his chest. "Nobody will ever learn the truth when I draw my last breath. The world will remember Robin of Locksley as Hero of Acre who stopped the masked Saracen before he could kill the King of England, and I will always be considered a traitor who was killed after attempt to escape and who deserved capital punishment." He paused, feeling the pain increasing in his chest. "Then so be it."

Guy of Gisborne didn't care that he was dying a traitor. Guy was a wretched outcast in the noble society and in the world since the day of the fire at the Gisborne Manor. Even after he had returned to Nottingham with Vaisey and had hoped to re-take everything he had once unjustly lost, he hadn't become even content with his life. Now Guy suddenly felt that he welcomed death because it could give him oblivion and peace he had always been seeking in his life. His heart considerably lightened when he realized that the King had murdered him for his treason while Robin hadn't taken a part in the King's plot. Guy didn't blame Robin for anything, and he no longer wished his enemy dead.

"Marian," Guy whispered. Marian was the only woman whom he thought he had ever really loved.

Guy wanted to die with the picture of Marian's lovely face before his eyes. He regretted that Marian would most likely learn about the regicide attempt on King Richard's life from Robin and about his attempt on Robin's life too. The thought that Marian would probably despise him was a painful one, but he couldn't undo the things he had done. There was the deep regret in Guy's heart for his misspent life he had wasted in pursuit of revenge against Robin and of power and wealth, but he had achieved nothing. If he had been given another chance, he would have done many things differently.

At the same time, Robin lay in his bed in his tent, trying not to think of Guy. Instead, his mind traveled to Marian of Knighton. Memories about Marian were the shelter in the world of bloodshed and death for Robin. Every time when he went to fight a new battle, he thought of Marian, hoping that he would be alive by the end of the day. He had been unscratched in all battles until the night of the Saracen attack, and he was sure that Marian preserved him in the war which he had grown to hate. He had been an utter fool when he had spoken about heavenly things and the infinite glory of God, stating that it had been his duty to fight with the infidels for the liberation of Jerusalem and for his King, Robin thought. He had already accepted the fact that he had lost Marian forever because of his own mistakes when he had placed his duty over his love for her.

"Marian," Robin murmured the name of his beloved, and a smile of ineffable and pure love lit up his handsome features, his eyes shining with unshed tears. He wanted to see Marian, to smile at her, to talk to her, and to kiss her, but she was in England, most likely already a married woman with a brood of children. "I shouldn't have abandoned you, my love. I broke your heart, but I also ruined my own happiness because I lost you." He could hear Much's loud snores, and he was happy that Much had already fallen asleep because his friend couldn't hear his lamentations over his woes.

Having spent several hours writhing in agony and pain, Guy of Gisborne died from the King's deadly poison in the early morning. Everyone in the Crusaders' camp was still sleeping when Legrand woke up Robin and notified him about the death of the masked Saracen. Robin was astonished to see a graceful smile on Guy's face when he came to the dungeons, thinking that Guy had died in peace with himself. But Robin didn't know that Guy had died with a smile on his face, free from his demons and from the darkness, because his last thoughts were about Marian.

Guy's death wasn't a tragedy for any Crusader because Gisborne was a traitor to the Crown, and Robin was the only man who genuinely mourned the loss of Guy. Robin didn't let his men throw Guy's body in an unmarked grave and arranged a Christian burial for Guy. Only Robin, Much, and Robert attended Guy's funeral in the desert, not in the improvised cemetery used for the King's guards; Much and Robin were there only because they were worried about Robin's still fragile health. Robin even invited a priest for the ceremony in spite of complete misunderstanding and anger of his comrades; he felt that it was his duty to Gisborne and Guy's deceased parents to put Guy to eternal rest in a proper way. Now the secret of the masked Saracen's death was buried forever.

The story of the King's favorite and the masked Saracen had a sad end, but it was for the better, even if could sound incredible. If Guy hadn't been captured in the King's camp, the war in Palestine would have continued, Robin would have been sent home and would have turned an outlaw, and Marian would have been murdered by Guy in a jealous rage in Acre. Later, in Heaven, Guy would learn about the alternative scenarios of his life, and he wouldn't regret that he had died before he could kill the love of his life and consign his soul to eternal damnation for the murder of Marian. Soon the story of Robin Hood and Maid Marian and the story of the adventures of Robin and his merry men in Sherwood Forest would begin, but the story of the masked Saracen would never be forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> King Richard deceived James in the previous chapter, and then James lied to Guy to get pardon from the King. The King's cunning scheme of double deceit trapped both traitors.
> 
> I know that not everyone agrees with the twist in the end of the chapter, but I ask you not to judge me harshly. Guy’s death is not Robin’s fault, and he really wanted to help Guy. But the King loves Robin, his friend and his savior, too much, and he wanted to protect Robin from Guy by killing Guy in secret from Robin. 
> 
> Now only the epilogue is left, in which the action will take place in Nottingham.


	10. Chapter 10

**Epilogue**

It was a lovely spring morning in Locksley, and the sun shone brightly in the blue sky. The air was clear and warm, and from the trees the birds sang soft lullabies. The people of Locksley crowded in the courtyard, near the Locksley Manor, each of them talking about the most important and celebrated event in Nottinghamshire – the wedding of Robin Hood and Maid Marian. There were several long tables in the courtyard, and Thornton commanded Mary and other servants to bring dishes, platters, and goblets, serving the tables for the feast after the wedding ceremony was over.

In the past year and a half, Robin Hood and Maid Marian had become the heroes of Nottinghamshire and England, who had lived in Sherwood Forest together and had fought against Sheriff Vaisey of Nottingham, assisted by the merry men – Much, Allan-a-dale, Little John, Will Scarlett, and Djaq, the young Saracen woman saved by the outlaws from slavery. Numerous bards in Nottingham and in many other shires across England sang songs about Robin Hood and the outlaws, and so their adventures and fight against tyranny and oppression had been immortalized in words.

Many events had happened since the day of the fateful Saracen attack on the King’s camp in Acre and Robin’s subsequent return to England from the Crusades. As Guy of Gisborne’s true identity had been discovered and ceasefire hadn’t been ruined, King Richard had quickly made peace with Saladin. The King and his party had departed from Acre in about four months after the Saracen raid, heading to England to deal with the Black Knights. Unfortunately, King Richard, Robin, and some of the King’s loyal knights had been captured near Vienna by Duke Leopold of Austria whom Richard had slighted after the capture of Acre. Before Richard had been taken into captivity, he had ordered Robin to leave and find Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine to launch political negotiation about his release.

Robin had done exactly what the King had asked. Disguised as merchants, he and Much had travelled to Aquitaine from Austria and had notified the Queen Mother about the King’s capture. Queen Eleanor had said that Richard’s release from captivity had been a matter of a purely political nature. Robin had tried to persuade the Queen that the Earl of Leicester, several other loyal men, and he himself could have returned to Austria to launch a rescue attempt and release the King. But Eleanor had insisted that they could have done nothing and had recommended that Robin go home, stating that she would send a messenger to him with the news about the negotiations with Duke Leopold.

When Robin and Much had returned to Nottingham, Robin had reclaimed his lands without any trouble because Guy of Gisborne hadn’t been there, his corpse being buried in the sands of Acre. Everyone had been happy to see their rightful lord alive, hoping that life conditions would improve with Robin’s return. But Robin had made himself the enemy of Sheriff Vaisey and had been outlawed on the second day after his return when he had saved four innocent men from hanging and had escaped into the woods, where he had gathered the band of outlaws to fight against the Sheriff until the King’s return.

Before he had been outlawed, Robin had paid a visit to the Knighton Hall, intending to talk to Sir Edward of Knighton about the events in the shire in his absence. Although Marian had met Robin and Much with a bow in her arms, targeting Robin, and they had been chased away from Knighton, they had been able to talk on the evening of the same day after the Council of Nobles. Edward and Marian had already known about Robin’s heroic actions on the night of the Saracen attack because King Richard had sent to England Roger of Stoke who had carried his royal message for Sir Edward.

Robin had given Edward and Marian a long, detailed story about the Saracen attack and the Black Knights Club headed by Sheriff Vaisey. Edward and Marian had been surprised to learn about the conspiracy of so many Englishmen against the King, and they had been absolutely shocked to learn about Guy of Gisborne’s participation in regicide attempt and his death in Acre. During their first secret meeting, Marian had been cold towards Robin, but she had been obviously worried about him, asking him countless questions about the night of the attack and his recovery. Robin had been amazed that Marian had been unmarried, and he had known from the first moment that she had been waiting for his return; her obvious concern for his heath had been a sign that she had still cared for him.

After Robin had been outlawed, the Locksley estates had been given to the Earl of Durham, one of the Black Knights; the Earldom of Huntingdon had reverted to the Crown. For some time, Marian had acted as Robin’s spy in the castle, but her sources of information had been limited because she and her father hadn’t been in Vaisey’s favor. In the end, the Sheriff had designed a vile plot to get rid of all the nobles who had been loyal to King Richard, and Sir Edward had been killed. Marian had been arrested by Vaisey, and Durham had wanted to marry her in exchange for her freedom; Robin and the outlaws had saved Marian, and she had lived with them in the forest since then.

After Marian had been outlawed, she had been very close to Robin, and it had been only a matter of time before they had renewed their betrothal. At first, Robin and Marian had been quite distant from each other as she had been unable to forgive him for leaving her for quite some time. Robin, Marian, and the outlaws had been involved in many risky adventures, stealing the Sheriff’s money and ruining his plans to delay King Richard’s release from captivity. After a couple of near-death experiences, Robin and Marian had confessed their love for each other and had reconciled.

At first, the Sheriff had no idea that Guy of Gisborne had been captured in the Crusaders’ camp, thinking that his right-hand man had probably perished in a shipwreck on the way to or from the Holy Land. Later Vaisey had received news from one of his spies in the King’s close entourage that the masked Saracen, as the King’s men had labeled Guy after his secret had been uncovered, had been killed in Acre during his attempt to escape. He had also learnt that Guy had almost murdered Robin who had barely survived his near-fatal injury. One of the Sheriff’s informants had been the man who had notified Leopold of Austria about the King’s presence in one of local inns near Vienna.

The news about Guy’s fate had become a mortal blow to the Sheriff’s pride and ego because he had realized that Robin had known about the Black Knights before his appearance in Nottingham. Vaisey had gone berserk with rage, and his hatred for the bold outlaw had flared up in his heart with an unprecedented strength. The Sheriff had always hated when someone played games with him, but Robin had done much more – he had pretended from the beginning and had outsmarted Vaisey one every occasion when the evil man had made up new plans to dethrone the rightful King.

The Sheriff had fiercely hated Robin Hood, sending countless search parties to the forest to find the outlaws’ camp. Each of such search parties had been led by the Earl of Durham, the new Lord of Locksley, and someone known as Archer who had become the Sheriff’s master-at-arms after Guy’s disappearance. But Durham, Archer, and all other men had always failed to find Robin, Marian, and the outlaws, and the Sheriff’s displeasure had been growing exponentially. Several times, Vaisey had increased the bounty on Robin’s head, hoping that the peasants, whom Robin had fed and protected, would betray him, but the people had always loved their hero too much.

Robin, Marian, and the outlaws had helped to collect the King’s random. When Prince John had come to Nottingham to grease the hands of local nobles with lavish gifts in order to buy their loyalty, the outlaws had stolen all collected taxes from the strong room and the Prince’s gifts as well. Robin had met with Roger of Stoke to arrange the delivery of the treasures to Queen Eleanor for Richard’s ransom. Months had passed, and finally the Queen Mother had sent to Nottingham her most entrusted messenger with the news that the King had been released and would soon start his journey to England.

Soon King Richard had landed in Sandwich where he had been met by many of his loyal noblemen and knights. Robin, Marian, and the outlaws had also been there. Richard had been overjoyed to see Robin, and he had engulfed him into a warm hug. The King had already heard about Robin’s adventures in the woods, and he had told all the present lords with a large, cordial smile on his face that Robin was _the hero of the Holy Land and the legend of England_. As Robin had introduced Marian as his fiancée, Richard had embraced Marian as well, calling her _the belligerent and courageous Maid Marian_ , as well as _the best match ever for Robin Hood_. Royal pardons for Robin, Marian, and all others had been issued on the same day when the outlaws had met with the monarch.

By the time the King’s troops had arrived in Nottingham, Vaisey and the Black Knights had taken in a hostage the civil population. The siege of Nottingham had been short but bloodthirsty. The final assault on the town had been led by the Earl of Huntingdon and the Earl of Leicester. The final battle with the Black Knights had been led by Archer and the Earl of Durham, but the King’s forces had easily cornered and overpowered the traitors. Those who hadn’t died on the battlefield had been captured and executed on the same day in the central courtyard near the castle; the surviving Black Knights had been hanged, drawn, and quartered, including the Sheriff and his right-hand man Archer.

As the King intended to urgently leave Nottingham for London to meet with Prince John, Robin and Marian’s wedding was scheduled for the next day after the siege. King Richard himself insisted that he would give Marian away to Robin because Sir Edward of Knighton had been dead and because he had been Robin’s legal guardian after the death of Sir Malcolm of Locksley in the fire at the Gisborne Manor. The former outlaws and the villagers of Locksley, who had been permitted to enter the church, watched Richard leading Marian to the altar and giving her hand to Robin with tears of joy in their eyes.

ææææææ

There was a blissful silence in the church as everyone looked at Robin and Marian standing near the altar and listening to mass. When Marian and Robin had become betrothed again, they hadn’t sought a moment to disguise their feelings when they had appeared in Locksley bringing food and medicine for the peasants. Everyone was convinced that the brave and honorable outlaw and his lady were deeply in love with each other, though very few of them were aware of the real nature of their sentiments.

King Richard stood to the right from Robin, staring at his grand favorite from and feeling honored to be the one who joined Robin’s life with Marian’s by giving the bride away to the bridegroom before a priest could join their hearts and souls forever. Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, and Much, the newly created Earl of Bonchurch, also stood very close to the altar; other outlaws stood among other guests in a distance. Eve, Much’s betrothed, stood nearby, her eyes attached to Much as her mind was building the pictures of her own wedding in a chapel in Bonchurch.

Little John was together there with his wife Alice and his son Little Little John. Little John had reunited with his family after the death of Luke Cooper from fever about six months ago and after getting royal pardon. Will Scarlett and Djaq stood in a light embrace, looking at their friends and dreaming of their own wedding. The young Saracen and the carpenter from Locksley were an unusual sight for people, and not every resident of Locksley understood and accepted Will’s choice of a bride because of prejudices that Englishmen should marry only Englishwomen. Will and Djaq had fallen in love at first secretly and then had been pushed by Robin and Allan to confess their feelings for one other.

Allan was there with his young fiancée Kate of Locksley; they looked at one another as love-struck fools, wishing to be at the altar where Robin and Marian stood at that moment. Kate had worked as a servant girl at the castle, and she had joined Robin Hood’s gang after she had been outlawed for helping the outlaws escape from the dungeons. She had quickly fallen for Allan during her brief time in the forest. Kate’s family – her mother Rebecca, her young brother Matthew, and her little sister Maggie – huddled in the corner of the church with other guests. Not every peasant of Locksley was admitted inside the church mainly for safety reasons as the King attended the wedding, and Kate’s relatives were permitted access only because Kate was one of Robin Hood’s gang.

After his own wedding with Marian and the King’s departure from Nottingham, Robin had promised to personally marry Much and Eve, Allan and Kate, as well as Will and Djaq as the Earl of Huntingdon and the highest-ranking nobleman in the shire. Robin had planned to revise marriage vows for Will and Djaq because neither of them wanted to convert, making it necessary to adjust wedding procedures from two various religions in the way that their marriage would still be recognized by the English law.

Annie, a young servant girl from the Locksley Manor and Guy of Gisborne’s former lover, was inside the church as well. On the day of his return, Robin had realized whom Guy had meant in their conversation before his death. Determined to keep the word he had given Guy, Robin hadn’t thrown Annie out of the manor and had intended to take care of her. He even hadn’t told her how Guy had died, thinking that the child should be spared the shame of knowing that his father had been a high traitor.

Annie had given birth to a healthy son Seth, and Robin had become the boy’s godfather. Annie had had to leave Locksley after Robin had been outlawed, but she had returned to the village together with her young son Seth when news about the King’s return had reached her. Annie had adored Robin Hood from the bottom of her heart because he had signed the deeds transferring the former Gisborne lands on Seth’s name. Now Seth was known as Seth of Gisborne.

As only several days had passed since the day of the siege of Nottingham, the King’s troops were still stationed in the town. Many of Robin’s old war comrades and his men from the King’s Private Guard, including Sir Legrand de Maulevrier and Sir Roger of Stoke, attended the wedding. Each of them felt honored to watch the legendary Captain Locksley join his life in holy matrimony with the love of his life.

Legrand, King Richard’s secret conspirator in the plot to remove Guy from the world of the living, had different thoughts, remembering the night of the Saracen raid and the afternoon of Guy of Gisborne’s escape from the King’s camp; he didn’t pity Guy, thinking that the day of Robin’s wedding would have probably never come if the King and he hadn’t dealt with Gisborne in Acre.

The priest looked between Marian and Robin, ready to begin the wedding ceremony. “Dearly beloved,” he addressed to the congregation, “we are gathered together here in the sight of God to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in Paradise, and into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. Therefore if any man can name any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, by God's Law, or the Laws of the Realm; let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.”

A solemn silence ensued. Robin and Marian shared annoyed glances, not pleased that the official part of the ceremony was such a long and boring procedure and that they had to wait to get married. As nobody said anything in response and impatience was gnawing at everyone, the priest continued.

Robin wasn’t listening to the priest’s monotonous voice, and his lusty eyes were focused on Marian’s face. His intense gaze briefly fell on a headpiece of roses and lilies that adorned her head, and then his eyes took in Marian’s appearance from top to toe. She looked beautiful in her white silk dress with a small train and a low-cut square neckline, which she had hastily chosen for the wedding, but he preferred to see her without any clothes. Robin had loved her during their five years in the Holy Land, but after their reconciliation his love for her deepened and strengthened. Marian was the love of his life, and he thanked God that he had been given a chance to be with her after their long separation.

Marian caught the direction of Robin’s gaze that stopped on her neckline, and rolled her eyes at him. Robin flashed the most charming smile she had ever seen on his face in response, and her heart started hammering harder. Marian smiled, thinking that she was marrying the most handsome man in Nottingham. She herself had chosen the wedding attire for Robin – a dashing dark blue brocade doublet and trousers of the same color that matched the color of his eyes. Marian had never stopped loving Robin, but it had taken her quite some time to forgive him for leaving her and trust him again.

Marian and Robin could read the same thoughts in their eyes. Seven years. It sounded like forever to them, but that was the number of years that had passed since the day of Robin’s first marriage proposal to Marian. It was a long and serpentine way for them to the day of their wedding, but now they were on the threshold of the new and happy life. They were not outlaws anymore because the King had pardoned them, but perhaps one day their adventures in Sherwood Forest would continue. They were Robin Hood and Maid Marian, the heroes of England and fighters for justice, and together they were stronger, able to conqueror the whole world and defeat all their enemies.

The priest proceeded to the final part of the wedding ceremony. “Heavenly Father, creator of all things both in Heaven and Earth, we humbly ask thee to bless this union, may these thy servants seek goodness all the days of their lives, may they be strong in defense of what is right, may they be united as one even as thou art with God. May they be numbered amongst thy sheep. We humbly pray in the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

Robin winked at Marian, his heart hammering harder. She rolled her eyes at him again, relieved that the priest was looking into the prayer book and didn’t see the lascivious glow in his eyes.

“Do you, Lord Robin, take Lady Marian as a wife?” the priest asked.

“ _Yes, I do_ ,” Robin replied, not looking at the priest. There was an affectionate smile on his face. “ _I, Robin, take you, Marian, to be my wedded wife,_ _to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part._ ”

“Do you, Lady Marian, take Lord Robin as a husband?” the priest continued the ceremony.

 _“Yes, I do,”_ Marian said with a hearty smile, her heart pounding harder in delight. “ _I, Marian, take you, Robin, my beautiful, beautiful Lord of Locksley, to be my wedded husband. I promise to love you and to cherish you on Earth and later in Heaven._ _For now and forever, till death do us part._ ”

Robin slipped a large sapphire wedding ring onto her finger. “Marian, receive and wear this ring as a symbol of my trust, my respect and my love for you,” he said in a silken voice.

It was Marian’s turn to give Robin her ring. “Robin, receive and wear this ring as a symbol of my love for you,” she said as she put a similar sapphire ring on his finger.

“I now pronounce you a husband and a wife,” the priest finished the wedding service.

ææææææ

King Richard watched the exchange of marriage vows with a large, content smile. He was happy because Robin, whom he loved so much, was happy as well. Looking at Robin’s smiling, glowing face, Richard thought that he had done a right thing when he had ordered to kill Guy of Gisborne in secret. At times, he felt remorse for taking Gisborne’s life in such a non-chivalrous way when the man hadn’t been given a fair trial and hadn’t been able to defend himself. Yet, every time when he remembered the feverish and dying Robin calling Marian’s name, his remorse was gone as he justified himself by the thought that he had protected Robin from Guy’s hatred and had probably even saved Robin’s life.

“Robin,” the King said, looking between the bride and the bridegroom. “You may kiss the bride.”

Robin smiled. “This is what I’m going to do with _my wife_.”

“ _My husband_ ,” Marian drawled slightly, savoring the sound of every word.

Robin took a small step to Marian and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her next to him. Gently, his lips found hers, and he kissed her with a great tenderness. Wishing to feel a sensual delight of tasting him, Marian parted her lips and let his tongue penetrate her mouth. Seeking for deeper intimacy, he pressed her to himself tightly, his exploring tongue filling her mouth, enflaming both of them as his hands slid down her back and helplessly her fingers tangled in his sandy head.

Robin and Marian both were hungry for the taste of each other and they could have continued kissing for a longer time, if the disconcerted priest hadn’t coughed nervously to attract their attention to him and break the magic spell. The newly wedded couple parted reluctantly and stood rooted, looking at each other and smiling slightly, their breathing uneven and their hearts thundering in their chests.

Marian lowered her eyes, her cheeks flushing; embarrassment flooded her to the core. “We are very sorry,” she said quietly. She would have gladly continued kissing Robin if they had been alone at that moment; but now she was angry at him for putting them in such a precarious situation.

Contrary to Marian’s fears, King Richard, all of the former outlaws, Robin’s friends, and other guests were smiling cordially. Nobody gave disapproving and irritated looks despite quite an inappropriate behavior of the newly wedded couple. Everyone was delighted to see Marian and Robin finally married, openly expressing their love for one other.

Robin grinned wickedly, looking into her sapphire eyes. “Finally, I have made an honest woman out of you, my love,” he said, taking her hand in his and lacing their fingers together.

Marian wasn’t a virgin anymore – she had given herself to Robin when they had lived in Sherwood. One evening, Marian and Robin had found themselves strolling in the woods far from the outlaws’ camp, enjoying the freshness and sweetness of early spring. They had wanted to spend some time together, without being watched by anyone. Appeased by the singing of birds in sweet chorus as if to cheer them with a hearty delight, Marian and Robin had come to the clearing where he had proposed to her for the second time. Drawn to one other by desire of great magnitude, they had started kissing, and soon their passion had exploded. They hadn’t returned to the camp that night.

The guests who stood close to the altar quickly understood the meaning of Robin’s words. The priest looked abashed, shaking his head disapprovingly. King Richard and the Earl of Leicester only laughed, their eyes twinkling with imps of mischief. Much stood with his mouth open like a large hole, his cheeks red as he disapproved of Robin and Marian’s intimate relations, and he had even told his former master several times that Sir Edward would have been ashamed of Robin if he had been alive. Little John, Will, Allan, and Djaq only shook their heads, not being astonished by the revelation.

Marian felt her cheeks turning crimson. She would have slapped Robin hard across his grinning face if they hadn’t been in the church. “Robin, you are impossible. You …” She stumbled with words.

Robin looked absolutely innocent, as though he hadn’t exposed their little secret. “Yes, my love?”

Astonished at a conduct so incomprehensible even by her, Marian wanted only to lash out at her husband physically and verbally. “You are a fool, Robin of Locksley,” she said between clenched teeth.

Robin flashed a facetious grin. “Maybe I’m indeed a fool,” he fired. “But who is more foolish – the one who calls you a fool or the one who keeps silent?”

There was a mirthful smile from King Richard. “Oh, Robin,” he said under his breath. “You will never change.”

Robin tore his gaze from his wife and looked at the King, his eyes twinkling. “And why should I change?”

“No, you shouldn’t, my friend,” the Earl of Leicester interjected, smiling.

“I would have missed Robin of old times if you had suddenly changed,” the King pointed out.

Much looked absolutely scandalized. “Robin, you cannot be so insolent!”

The priest stood abashed and speechless. He had always known that the young Earl of Huntingdon was a man of unorthodox ways, but never had he expected the hero to be so bold.

Marian wasn’t at all delighted with Robin’s gaiety and good humor; she could scarcely preserve the indignant gravity on her features. “One day, you will pay, Robin of Locksley,” she promised.

“You know, my love, there is nothing in the world I wouldn't do for you,” Robin replied, smiling at Marian’s angry expression and looking into her eyes. “And if you promise that you will make me pay a high price for my indulgent behavior, then I promise in return that I will always pay you back and that our life will always be full of trouble even in peaceful times.”

The King laughed at the exchange between the newly married couple. “You are a grand match,” he stated. “Peace between you may be of short duration, but love is endless as we can really see.”

It was King Richard who saved everyone from the awkwardness of the situation by prompting Robin to finish the wedding ceremony in the most unusual way – by taking his wife out of the church to the feast. An unusual man by nature with extraordinary tastes and habits for a nobleman, Robin understood the King’s words literally and lifted Marian in his arms, smiling at her shocked face as he easily carried her outside. But Robin wasn’t intending to attend the feast, at first wishing to go to the woods, to their clearing where so many important events had happened.

As Robin carried Marian out of the church, they could hear the soft whisperings and giggling behind their backs. Marian was angry at Robin, telling him to put her to her feet and even trying to fight with him, but everything was useless. As she understood that Robin was carrying her out of the village and into the forest, Marian punched Robin in his chest, but he only laughed at all of her attempts to free herself. There was a heat and energy in her anger that never failed to amuse him and make him wish to see her even angrier because their verbal skirmishes gave him a real pleasure.

“Put me to my feet,” Marian demanded as she saw that they had already reached the outskirts of Locksley. “I want to return to the village for the wedding feast.”

Robin shook his head, yet giving her a beaming smile. “My love, if you eat a lot, you can put on some weight before the wedding night,” he teased. “Then your white bridal nightgown won’t fit you well.”

She blushed profusely. “You have no shame, Robin Hood!”

He sniggered. “Maid Marian, I don’t see even a trace of shame in you when we are alone.”

Marian shot him a fulminating look. “It wasn’t me who made a laughingstock of us in the church by revealing what should have been kept in secret.”

“I didn’t say anything bad about us.” There was a laugh in his voice.

Her anger abating slightly, the expression in her eyes softened as her heart had already startled melting at the sight of his charming smile that had always let him win the game. “Now everyone knows that we were–” She abruptly broke off, dropping her eyes to the ground.

“We were lovers before I married you,” he finished.

Marian closed her eyes, and her head sank on his shoulder. “Yes, they do know, you brazen man!”

“Only some of them,” he corrected. “I spoke quietly, and not all guests heard my little confession.”

“Thanks to God that not everyone heard you, Robin.”

Robin laughed, openly enjoying their heated discussion and her embarrassment. “My love, please open your eyes because I like when you look at me in anger,” he said in a mocking tone, his gaze lingering on her flushed cheeks. As she opened her eyes and stared with challenge at him, he gave her an impish grin. “There is no other woman who looks prettier in anger than you, Marian of Locksley. I have to confess that I like making you angry and then reconcile with you.”

“One day you won’t be able to reconcile with me, Robin of Locksley.” Although he was still carrying her, she gave him a quick jab to the ribs with her elbow, making him pause. “I won’t be always as forgiving as I was when you returned from the Crusades.”

Robin didn’t speak for a long moment, contemplating his wife’s beauty with misty eyes darkening in passion. Marian was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman he had ever met, and he was proud of having her as his wife. She really possessed an almost otherworldly beauty and purity, both ethereal and entirely physical at the same time. Marian’s sapphire eyes blazed with anger mingled with lust for him, and he could see lush sensuality in her every feature which battled with a depth of her spirit that seemed to spill out of her. In the golden sunlight, she looked so young and so beautiful.

“We will always reconcile because we are meant to be together,” Robin said with conviction.

She gave additional fake harshness to the anger which clouded her expression, but Robin knew that it was a mask because she always kept her true feelings under coldness and aloofness. “You are so full of yourself, Robin,” she parried, glaring at him, though the corners of her lips were quivering in a tiny smile. “One day you may find out that you have become too overconfident.”

Robin winked at her. “I don’t think so.”

Marian looked around, her eyes taking in the green trees, green grass, and wild flowers which were putting forth their tender leaves and fragrant blossoms as if to charm them by their natural beauty, depriving them of their senses. Then she swung her gaze at Robin, giving him a mischievous smile he knew so well. As he wasn’t carrying her any longer, she took advantage to make her escape from his strong arms and took a couple of steps backwards, her eyes never leaving his face.

“Now, Robin, tell me why have you kidnapped me from Locksley?”

Robin gave her a long look, feeling that he had only one desire – to kiss her deeply and never let her go. He took a deep breath and held the air in his lungs, trying to regain his emotional balance. “I have been thinking of something,” he began. “I want us to go to our clearing, to our old oak.”

At that moment, her anger evaporated. Cocking an eyebrow at him, she smiled. “Why does Robin Hood wish to go there?” She narrowed her eyes at him playfully. “Is it another trick of yours, husband?”

He grinned. “This time, it is not a trick, but a confession that my wife needs to hear.”

She looked genuinely interested. “Then we should go.”

ææææææ

Walking hand in hand in the depths of the woods, Robin and Marian glowered in the sunshine that penetrated the crowns of trees and fell on them. The morning became warmer as the sun climbed higher in the sky, and the forest shone like gold. There was absolutely no breeze, and not even a breath of air was stirring, but many trees waved and soughed slightly as if by the wind. Robin threw a barb that trees agreed with his course of action after the wedding ceremony and nodded at them in agreement; Marian’s answer was a merry laugher as she reveled in his dry sense of humor.

As they reached the clearing, they made their way to a tall, old oak, which they had started calling the _“The oak of their love”_ because many majestic things had happened there. Many years ago, Robin had kissed Marian for the first time under this tree. They had also parted their ways on this place when Robin had informed her about his decision to fight in the Holy Land. Standing under this oak, Robin had proposed Marian for the second time and had confessed that he had loved her despite the years of separation and war. Now Robin was going to make another confession on the same place.

Marian gave Robin a long, searching look. “What do you want to tell me, Robin?”

Suddenly all the bravado left him, and glanced away, looking at the other side of the clearing sprinkled with trees and bushes, which sloped gradually down to the River Trent. “Marian,” he whispered, sighing deeply. “You know that I’m not good at making confessions, but I want to say something important.”

She smiled. “Robin, pulling love confessions out of you is like pulling teeth from a scared patient.”

His lip edged up at one corner. “You are right.”

“Speak yourself out, Robin.”

Robin made a step to her and took her hands in his. “Marian, I have always loved only you,” he said in a voice thick with emotion; he deepened his voice. “I have never stopped loving you.” He raised a hand to her cheek and caressed it with his thumb. “I loved you when I proposed to you years ago, when I fought in the Holy Land, and when I returned to England. I don’t think that there has ever been any minute in my life when I haven’t loved you.”

Marian felt tears stung her eyes. “I love you too, Robin,” she murmured, enjoying the touch of his hand on her cheek. He was very gentle with her, caressing her as if she were made of glass, and she could feel his fingers tremble. “I have never stopped loving you, even when you left me heartbroken and departed to the Holy Land. I prayed for your survival in the Holy Land every day while you were away.”

Tears came to Robin’s eyes too, his heart was beating faster. “After our reconciliation, I told you about my love, but you still cannot imagine how much I love you and need you,” he whispered as his arms encircled her waist, pulling her closer to him. “I love you so much – I love your more than life itself. I cannot imagine that I will ever lose you again. I need to be with you every day, every hour, and every minute. I cannot imagine my life without you. I cannot live without you, Marian.”

Marian had never seen so many emotions in his beautiful blue eyes, and for the first time in her life she realized how deeply he really loved her. “You won’t lose me again, handsome,” she answered, her heart pounding harder. “You are my past, my present, and my future. You are my partner, my friend, my lover, and my husband – you are everything to me.”

He smiled, his eyes sparkling. “Yes, my Marian, my love.”

She smiled. “ _You are my Robin_.”

“ _Your own Robin_ ,” he corrected with a smile.

“Yes,” she said with a sense of possession.

Robin lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers, his two hands wrapped around her waist. Marian opened her mouth to say something to him, but he kissed her, his arms clutching her so closely she could scarcely breathe. She responded with matching hunger and passion. They both felt sheer enjoyment, and their feelings arose to rapture as they froze in a tight embrace, kissing one other, now a husband and a wife. The tall old oak, woods, many other trees, grass, hills, and everything around them shone with a radiance that seemed of more than earthly beauty. It was the most blissful moment in their lives because they finally were home and belonged to each other.

Marian and Robin didn’t know that Guy of Gisborne and Ghislane of Gisborne observed them from Heaven. Watching them kissing with such splendid hunger, Guy felt a stab of jealousy in his heart; but he knew that it was no wise of him to be jealous because he was dead and because Marian had never loved him. Then, instead of burning jealousy which he could expect to feel again, a sweet wave of happiness submerged Guy. Guy felt as though the hatred he had once felt for Robin had been washed away into the great, infinite lightness he had never felt when he had been alive.

“What are you feeling, Guy?” Ghislane asked, looking at her eldest son. “I hope you don’t envy them.”

Guy turned his gaze at his mother. “I’m glad that Marian is happy with Robin. Now I know that she would have never been happy with me because her heart belongs to him.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. Then he went on, his voice lower and huskier. “I’m glad that I died before I could kill Marian.”

When Guy had arrived in Heaven, he had learnt that there were _only two alternative paths in his life_ – his death in the Holy Land or his death in the bloody siege of Nottingham together with Robin Hood. Ghislane had told her son about the second life path which could have been his if King Richard hadn’t secretly murdered him, and Guy had been shocked to learn that he would have murdered Marian in a jealous rage if he had returned to England from Acre. He had also learnt that God had forgiven him for his heinous crimes because he had become the King’s victim. After all the shocking revelations about the deaths of his parents in Heaven, he had stopped blaming Robin for his misery. Truth be told, now Guy was vastly relieved that he had died in Acre.

Ghislane smiled. “And you are at peace with God and your conscience, my son.”

Guy smiled back at her. “Yes, I’m at peace.”

A dark look crossed her face as her mind drifted off to her another son. “It is painful that my Archer was captured in Nottingham and then was executed.” She let out a heavy sigh. “But he betrayed England and the King, and Robin didn’t know that the Sheriff’s master-at-arms was his half-brother.”

“It is only Malcolm of Locksley’s fault,” Guy hissed between clenched teeth. “Although he was looking for Archer, he failed to find him. He also failed to find Robin in time and tell him the truth.”

“Guy, you have already understood that we cannot go against our destiny. If Archer had died so young and as a traitor, then it happened for a reason.” Her voice sounded strained and her eyes were full of tears because she was emotionally devastated and her grief was enormous, but she accepted Archer’s fate. “I know that Malcolm will find Robin later, but it will already be too late to change anything.”

“Too late,” he echoed.

Ghislane cast a brief glance at the kissing couple; then she gazed at Guy. “Guy, we have to go. Archer will arrive in Heaven soon, and we need to meet and guide him.”

Guy nodded. “Of course.”

“Let’s go,” she prompted.

He lingered his gaze at Marian and Robin, again feeling jealous. “And what about them?” he inquired out of mere curiosity. “Will they be happy together? How many children will they have?”

“Robin and Marian have a long, dangerous, and adventurous life ahead,” Ghislane replied, smiling down from Heaven at the two heroes. “England and the people need them. Their mission is not over.”

Guy started speaking, but the sentence was dispersed by the wind that blew from Heaven, reminding them of the time to leave Earth. Guy glanced down at Robin and Marian with a mixture of envy and jealousy, but his gaze quickly became warm and content.Next moment, Robin and Marian broke their kiss and pulled away, and Guy thought that he had never seen such a happy light in Marian’s eyes before. At that instant, he knew that his premature death was the price of Marian and Robin’s happiness and the price of his own peace, and he was glad that he had paid this price.

In the future, Guy and Ghislane would come back to Earth from time to time. Every time when Guy would see Marian happy with Robin and their three daughters and three sons, he would be relieved that he had been killed by the King instead of surviving his trip to Acre. Guy would be happy to watch Seth grow up into a handsome young man who later would marry Robin and Marian’s eldest daughter, finding it amusing that the blood of the Locksleys and the Gisbornes would mix in the next generation. Guy would always be happy in Heaven because Maid Marian and Robin Hood would be happy, and one day Robin, Marian, and Guy would meet in Heaven, but it would be a tale for another story.

**The end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story.
> 
> The epilogue is about the wedding of Robin Hood and Maid Marian. I decided that it would happen after King Richard’s return to England because it is logical that they are getting married after the siege and the King’s return. Although it is not a love story about Robin and Marian, I gave Robin some moments in private with Marian because I wanted to finish the story on a happy note.
> 
> I briefly mentioned what happened to Robin after his return from the Crusades. Robin was outlawed by Vaisey and became Robin Hood, but there was no Guy of Gisborne in this story – instead there was Archer who became the Sheriff’s master-at-arms. I didn’t want to bring Malcolm in this story, so Archer’s fate was sealed; I also wanted to be original, so I killed off Archer in the siege.
> 
> Perhaps, it is not what all of my readers wanted to see in the end of the story, dreaming that Robin and Guy would work together after their return from Acre, but if it had happened, it wouldn’t have been as original as the storyline of having Guy murdered by King Richard is.
> 
> I don’t hate Guy and I think that he is an interesting character with a potential for redemption, but his redemption is out of scope in this story. My idea is that there were only two alternative ways in Guy’s life, and if he hadn’t died in the pre-series, he would have killed Marian like it happened in S2 Finale. But now Guy is happy in Heaven, watching his son grow up and not regretting that he died in Acre.
> 
> Please leave a short review if you don’t mind. I want to know your opinion. Thanks!


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